Master of the Sword
by Darth Skuldren
Summary: In the old days of the Sith Empire, during the reign of the Dark Lord of the Sith Tulak Hord, a ruler of his people becomes the victim of his obsession.
1. Chapter 1

Master of the Sword

_**"Dramatis Persona"**_

Leader of the Sith:  
Tulak Hord - Dark Lord of the Sith, master of the sword and lightsaber

The Sith Council: formed by ten Sith Lords under command of the Dark Lord, each rules over a dozen inhabited worlds  
Nasas Abim - a sound commander and leader, he is good friends with Sabah.  
Husani Adina - one of Hord's generals, a thin and short tempered psychopath.  
Sabah Daku - a tough and competent ruler of some of the unruliest Sith planets.  
Gilga Erathipa - a large, indulgent man of many appetites, renowned for his good cheer.  
Eees Illuka - one of Hord's nephews and husband to seven wives.  
Benalla Luzige - one of Hord's cousins, a great thinker and inventor, a skilled Sith alchemist.  
Khalos Nechos - ruler of the Sith's most significant industrial worlds, a staunch opponent of Hord.  
Losi Pitaka - a Lady of the Sith known for her "Sith Giants" guard, she has a taste for precious stones and controls much of the Sith's mining worlds.  
Daen Ottah - the beast master, he supplies the empire with their war beasts: the mighty behemoths, hydras, rhinos, and warbirds.  
Mazul Serq - one of Hord's generals and Hord's right hand man, very capable and loyal, perhaps Hord's only true friend.

**Part I**  
**Chapter One**

It is said that of all the masters of the lightsaber, there is but one who stands out above them all. One who mastered it in all its forms, perfecting its use into an art. One who achieved a level of skill and understanding of the blade such that no one could ever surpass him…  
His name was Tulak Hord.

**Ziost, Capital of the Sith Empire:**

A cold wind blows over the vast evergreen forests of Ziost. Snow laden mountains stand in the distance, caped by low-lying clouds. The red skinned Sith go about their daily business among the vast city of stone and brick. At the heart of the capital lies a giant fortress dominated by its towering steeples. Within the inner sanctum of the palace, Tulak Hord sits in meditation upon his throne.

"Milord, one of your subjects wishes to speak with you. He has brought a gift." Spoke the humble attendant as he knelt before the Dark Lord of the Sith.

The Dark Lord noted that his servant did not look at him while in his presence. _This one knows his place._

"Very well, show him in." Tulak Hord's voice boomed in the massive chamber.

As was his right, he sat comfortably on a massive golden throne, high above the floor. Anyone who approached him was forced to look up. Those who dared saw not the face of a man but the black snarled image of a demon. It instilled fear into his subjects and even some of the Sith Lords. No one ever saw the face behind the mask, at least no one still alive.

In the distance, the large chamber doors opened. Walking past the griffon sentry statues flanking the door was the attendant and a small man. As they neared, Hord could see that the man was not a Sith, but an Arkanian. His long white hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Long, flowing orange robes dragged along the ground as he walked. Cradled in his arms was a narrow box.

The Arkanian was in awe of the throne room. Giant sculptured reliefs adorned the walls depicting battles between the Jedi and Sith. Great columns stretched up into the high ceiling. It was plastered with precious jewels. As he continued to gaze up he noticed that the stones were in the patterns of various star systems. But all the beautiful trappings of art failed to achieve the splendor of the sight before him. Even at a distance, you could feel the power emanating from that towering throne.

As he continued to walk closer, following the elaborately dressed attendant, he began to think to himself. _If I had but a fraction of such riches, I could be a king. Perhaps the lord will be so pleased with my gift that he will reward me with a portion of his fortunes. I'll be set for life. Spending nights with beautiful women, living in huge estates. I might even become the governor of some small province. From here on out I'll never have another worry again._

Finally the two servants reached the base of the throne. Tulak Hord motioned his attendant to introduce the subject.

"Milord, this is Casigh Haltgarr, an inventor from Arkania. He wishes to present you with a gift in the hopes that it might please you, milord." The attendant bowed and retreated several steps, thus leaving Haltgarr before the supremacy of the Dark Lord.

"You may speak servant. What is this gift you have brought?" The Dark Lord's tone was deep and commanding.

Haltgarr placed the engraved metal box on the floor and knelt before the throne. He looked up and saw the figure sitting upon the golden chair, high above. The man wore thick, dark armor encrusted with shiny trim work and sparkling gemstones. A magical Sith sword rested in his lap, gleaming in the light. His sandaled feet revealed a set of red toes. It was the only part of his body that Haltgarr could see. And atop it all was a scowling black mask, devoid of life. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite see the Dark Lord's eyes.

"Your majesty, I have brought you a weapon crafted by mine own hands." Gently he opened the box. Inside the padded lining, he revealed a strange device. "It is a lightsaber milord." Haltgarr held the weapon out with both hands, letting in rest in his open palms.

"Your gift is worthless. I have several such laser swords. They are clumsy and ineffective. With but one stroke you can sever the power cord and the weapon becomes useless." Tulak Hord's tone was full of contempt. He made another gesture and the attendant stepped forward.

"But…but…milord, this is not like any other lightsaber. This one is cordless…look." Carelessly Haltgarr ignited the lightsaber and its red-orange beam hummed in the silence.

Quickly the attendant drew a dagger and lunged toward the Arkanian but was stopped mid stride. Tulak Hord didn't move, yet he held the attendant frozen in the Force. Haltgarr, still holding the glowing lightsaber, trembled in fear.

The Dark Lord's voice echoed out into the chamber, "Let him be."

Rising from his seat, Hord descended the steps of his throne. Sheathing his Sith sword, he approached the quivering Arkanian and held out his hand. "Give me this lightsaber."

Without hesitation, Haltgarr handed the ignited lightsaber to Hord. A black gauntleted hand took the weapon. The Dark Lord studied the long metallic cylinder.

In his time, lightsabers consumed vast amounts of power. To keep the weapon energized, the user had to wear a separate power pack, usually worn on a belt. A power cord then connected the two. In close combat, against heavily armored foes, the weapon was very effective. It could cut clean through the opponent without resistance. Yet it was useless if the cord was severed and it was extremely difficult to guard against such an attack.

Suddenly the red-orange beam slashed through the air, splitting the attendant from left shoulder to right hip, cleaving him in two. He died without a scream. The cauterized halves smoldered on the polished floor. Curls of smoke rose into the air and mixed with the stench of charred flesh.

"Magnificent." Spoke the Dark Lord, his black mask fixated on the glowing blade.

"You see milord, it is not restricted in…its freedom of movement, the power pack is all internal." Fear filled his quivering white eyes. His face was pallid.

"Your gift pleases me servant." Hord's rich voice reverberated in his fearsome mask.

Haltgarr's fear was again replaced with the visions of riches. His invention was a success. Now all his dreams could come true.

"You may go." Spoke the Dark Lord.

You may go. No riches. No reward. Just his life. Completely shattered, the little Arkanian turned away defeated. All his work for nothing. Staring at the floor, he began to leave.

"A question before you go. Have you made any others?" Asked Hord, a curious hint in his voice.

With a small glimmer of hope, Haltgarr turned around and replied, "No milord, but I could make more…many more…enough to supply your Sith Lords and marauders."

"And no one else knows of this weapon's construction?" Asked Hord.

Haltgarr hesitated. "No milord, I built it myself."

"You had no assistants, no helpers, you did not tell your wife, your children…" Inquired the Dark Lord.

"No one milord." Haltgarr's hands shook uncontrollably at his sides.

"Good." And with one clean stroke, he lopped off the Arkanian's head.

With a hollow smack it hit the floor. A burning ponytail followed it down. The body collapsed to the side.

Turning back towards his throne, the Dark Lord extinguished the humming blade. Slowly he ascended the steps and retook his seat. Oblivious to the carnage before him, he continued to marvel at the ingenious weapon. Thoughts spilled into his mind. _What wondrous possibilities. An unstoppable sword. A symbol of my might and terror. All will tremble before me, even my Sith Lords. And I shall be the only one to possess its might._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Ziost, Training Fields:**

The Dark Lord of the Sith stood upon the cold surface of Ziost. In a barren field he wielded his lightsaber. Before him stood ten Sith battle droids, circling like wolves.

The droids' servomotors whined as they moved. Slowly they closed in on the Dark Lord, inching their way closer. Tulak waited in anticipation.

Suddenly the first droid struck, leaping out as its actuators propelled into motion. A vibrosword hummed through the air as it swept over the Dark Lord's head. Tulak simply ignited his lightsaber and split the droid in two. Sparking pieces of machinery fell to the frozen ground.

Two more droids lunged forward with force pikes at the ready. Deadly buzzing tips whizzed by Hord as he nimbly dodged the thrusts. A quick, circling sweep took both arms off one attacker. Followed by a graceful slash chopping the other in half. Without turning around, he simply jabbed his crimson blade behind him, finishing off the unarmed droid.

"Enough of this game…all droids engage." Commanded Hord.

Acknowledging the command, all of the remaining droids attacked. In a frenzied rush, they charged. Hord savagely chopped them apart. Some were split in two, others severely sliced. Yet two stood unscathed.

Hord unleashed a portion of his vast fury upon the resilient droids. His red blade skimmed across their armor but didn't pierce it. He extinguished his blade.

"End engagement."

Dutifully the droids obeyed.

Mazul Serq approached the two droids left standing. He wore brown leather armor segmented with gold clasps and cords. Like Hord, he wore a grim helmet that hid his face.

"Interesting. This lightsaber seems to be more effective than normal." Lord Serq examined the superficial damage caused by Hord's blade.

Hord watched the man. Serq was a Sith Lord, a ruler of four systems and 18 inhabited planets. He commanded one of the largest fleets in the Sith armada. Of all the Sith Lords, he posed the largest threat to Hord's rule. And yet he was the Dark Lord's most trusted advisor. He was his only friend.

"The higher grade Mandalorian iron seems to have worked quite well…pity it was so difficult to procure." Lord Serq looked over at Hord.

"What about the other one. How much damage did the new substance withstand."

The other droid had two shallow grooves burned across its chest plate. Small tendrils of smoke curled out from the jagged edges of the cut. Yet its internal circuitry remained untouched.

"Just grazing damage. It would take three or four precise cuts to get through the phrik armor plates." Turning to gaze at the wreckage of the mutilated droids on the ground, he remarked, "I can't believe that lightsaber cut through the cortosis and Sith alloys. We'll need to try and increase the purification process. Lord Benalla is going to throw a fit when he hears 80 percent of his armor designs failed."

"I'll deal with Benalla." Hord looked up at the sky, a shuttle was breaking through the atmosphere. "Nechos. I was not informed of his arrival, his boldness is getting worse by the day."

At the edge of the field a scraggly courier raced across the clearing.

"You should really carry a comlink Tulak, your subjects will kill themselves just trying to deliver messages."

"Haven't you noticed Mazul, these servants are the ones Lord Nechos gave me as a gift when he conquered the Ralos System." Hord looked at the courier struggling to run across the field. "I could care less whether they lived or died. They're all spies anyway. The sooner I'm rid of them the better."

Finally the heaving servant arrived with the message. Steam rolled out of his mouth as he tried to speak. In his quivering hand was a parchment with a scrawled message.

_Lord Khalos Nechos requests the audience of the Dark Lord of the Sith Tulak Hord. His entourage shall be waiting in the palatial chambers when you are ready.  
Signed Lord Nechos._

"Entourage!" Fumed Hord. "I don't have time for his games." He looked at the courier, fully entrapping the servant's attention. "Run. Run until the life in your soulless body evaporates like the morning dew on Korriban. With your dying breath inform Lord Nechos that his audience has been refused."

Every word from the Dark Lord's mouth dripped with the bitter poison of the dark side. Mindlessly the servant accepted his orders and began sprinting back across the field. The unmerciful powers of anger and hatred swelled in the courier's brain pushing him beyond the physical capabilities of his body.

**Ziost, Dark Lord's Palace, Waiting Chambers:**

Lord Nechos turned away from his fellow guests when a loud thunder shattered through their conversations. The rooms heavy cast doors clanged against the durasteel walls. A courier stood in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the setting sun. Slowly the ragged messenger limped his way into the room. His hands were clasped to his sides in pain. His lungs grasped for air. As he approached Lord Nechos, he collapsed to the floor. With a wheezing grasp he spoke, "Lord Tulak Hord…declines…your…audience!"

And with that the poor servant died of exhaustion.

Stunned in disbelief, Nechos looked at the lifeless body before him. A member of his entourage stepped forward and quietly remarked, "Perhaps you should wait on presenting your demands, milord."

Nechos turned to his assistant. His focus narrowed. A look of irritation crossed his face.

"Nonsense! Lord Hord may be the Dark Lord of the Sith now, but he still must listen to his people. I am in command of over a dozen worlds. He will listen to my council whether he likes it or not. His position requires more than playing with toys! All he does now is swing his electro thing through machines and…and…my servants! How dare he spend their lives like some commodity!"

Barlos, Lord Nechos' assistant, spoke up once again. "I think your spies are no longer of need, milord. It seems the Dark Lord is in agreement." A small grin dared to cross his face.

Nechos chose to ignore it.

"Well I'll not be kept waiting. Let us see what Hord is cutting up today."

**Ziost, Training Fields:**

Lord Serq crooked his head around his shoulder to catch a glimpse of a figure crossing the field. The figure was followed by at least six others.

"Well Tulak, it looks like Nechos got your message. I'm surprised he came out. He must have something serious to discuss."  
Tulak looked at Mazul then back at the small figure approaching. He shrugged his shoulders and went back to his lightsaber drills.

"If he has something to say it is only fitting that he should come to me. The sooner he realizes the chain of command the better.

Lord Nechos slowed his march as he neared, making as dignified an approach as possible, under the circumstances. He kept his distance from Hord as the Dark Lord's crimson blade swept through the air.

"My Lord, may I have a moment of your time?" Nechos asked with a slight bow.

Tulak extinguished his lightsaber and turned toward the Sith Lord. Nechos was a pain in the Dark Lord's side but no matter how unruly he was, he maintained a position of importance. Lord Nechos commanded the manufacturing heart of the Sith Empire. Without his factories the Sith armadas would falter, the army would ground to a halt, and his subjects would starve. And yet after years of searching, he still couldn't find a replacement for Nechos.

"Very well, make it quick." Replied Tulak Hord.

"Between Lord Serq and Lord Adina, the bulk of the Empire's resources are being squandered on futile border skirmishes. If we are to create a lasting empire then we need to invest in infrastructure my lord." Nechos swept a hand to his servant, Baralos, and received a piece of parchment. He handed it to Hord.

"Hmm…these figures are rather substantial Lord Nechos. Are you sure you need this much to simply industrialize your worlds or are you trying to build your own fleet?" Hord's accusation hit home.

"I assure you my lord that these figures are appropriate. Machines are not cheap and neither is labor. Prosperity comes at a price-"

"-and yours shall be denied. Lord Serq and Lord Adina's fleets are expanding the Sith Empire and its greatness. The more worlds they capture, the more resources we gain. You would do well to support their efforts and maybe you would reap the fruits of their labor." Hord turned his back on Nechos, the conversation was at an end.

Nechos and his followers turned and began their way back but were stopped by one last comment.

"And Lord Nechos, regardless of today's events, I expect to see your manufacturies increase their yields by the end of the month. Put your efforts to good use."

_The gall! Good efforts! Hmpf!_ Nechos stomped away infuriated. _Hord is intolerable._

**Galduron System, fringes of Sith Space:**

At the helm of a Sith battleship, Lord Husani Adina stood at attention among his command crew. Out beyond the transparsteel viewport was a large green planet. Its forrested suface was broken by vast

rivers and low level mountain ranges. Breaking out of its atmosphere were twenty various sized defense vessels. It was all the planet could muster.

"Milord, the planet's defense fleet is on an intercept course. Orders sir?" Asked the helmsman.

Lord Adina, hands clasped behind his back, stood quietly. His eyes closed half shut. "Do not open fire. Hold positions. Maintain full shields, keep weapons at the ready but do not target the approaching vessels."

The helmsman relayed the orders to the fleet. Three Sith battleships sat patiently in the black void of space as the enemy ships approached.

"Open a comm with the enemy defense fleet." Ordered Lord Adina. A ping issued notifying that the comm was open. "Galduron defense forces this is Lord Husani Adina of the Sith Empire. I have come to gain the mutual cooperation of your people as part of a greater society, one of progress and stability. Give us your allegiance now or suffer the consequences."

Adina signaled to end the transmission. Without pause he ordered, "helmsman have all gunners target the enemy flagship and fire without haste."

"Right away milord!" Rapidly the helmsman relayed the order and the three Sith battleships opened fire.

Eighteen ruby red beams of light soared through space. In brilliant explosions of white, they erupted upon the hull on the Galduron flagship. The vessel's shields were overwhelmed and the ship's armored hide splintered under the relentless attack. Debris scattered as the ship was engulfed by a flowering blue fireball.

Adina nodded to the communications officer. The comm pinged. "Galduron defense forces I repeat, give your allegiance now or pay the consequences."

This time he waited for a reply.

**Ziost, Palace Command Center:**

"My Lord, the Galduron system has been conquered. Their forces have sworn allegiance to our empire. Lord Nechos will be pleased with the new source of raw materials to fuel his factories." Came Adina's voice over the holocom feed.

"Do not worry about Nechos, his demands will not interfere with your supplies and reinforcements." Replied Tulak Hord. "You did well Lord Adina, the Empire will be well served by your work. I will be

sending troops for the occupation of our new allies. Lord Ottah has promised me some of his finest war beasts for the job. Put them to good use."

"Most certainly my lord, I'll look forward to the integration of Galduron's population. I think there opposition will be kept to a minimum. I shall report back when things are under way. Until then Dark Lord."

Tulak Hord stood in shinning black armor decorated with gold trim. His black helmet hid the smile on his face. His empire was growing. Soon the Sith would have a force to be reckoned with. One the galaxy would do well to stay clear of.

He looked down at his right hand. His ebony gauntlet clutched his lightsaber. It was such a fine weapon. Too fine a weapon to be without. Just holding it in his hand made him want to ignite it. To feel the thrum as the energy blade crackled through the air and resonated with its power. It was pure.

In the silence of the chamber, Tulak Hord swore that he could hear the weapon calling his name in a seductive whisper. It was a command he could not refuse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Once a year the Sith people leave Ziost to journey to their homeworld of Korriban. Ever since the death of their first and only king, King Ajax, the Sith race have resided on Ziost. In turn they made Korriban a graveyard world. And so they bury shallow graves on Ziost, then, during the Week of Tidings, they return to Korriban to bury the dead. For it is written that "all Sith should find eternal slumber in the shifting sands of Korriban, and until then, their spirits will wander the astral realms of chaos for eternity."

Now that the early summer winds have died down, the Week of Tidings has begun…

**Korriban: Valley of the Sith Lords**

The sun was high and the heat shimmered on the desert sands. It was the summer months and the winds had calmed. Today nearly two thirds of the tombs were visible. Shifting sands were in their favor.

"Lord Tulak, your people are ready." Replied one of the head priests.

The Dark Lord of the Sith turned his gaze toward the crowd before him. They all stood in the desert before the gentle slope that led into the vallley of tombs. Some hid under impromptu pavillions, others under umbrellas of varying sizes and colors. Those worthy of being Sith braved the midday heat without such comforts. Tulak himself was laden in roughly 25 kilos of black and gold armor. Rather than shielding himself from the heat with the Force, he embraced it. The discomfort seemed to give him strength. It emboldened him.

"Very well head priest, let us begin the ceremony." Tulak stepped on to a platform that was hoisted up upon the shoulders of half a dozen servants.  
Standing above the crowd, he began his address. "Fellow Sith, we are gathered here today to bring our dead home, to celebrate their lives and carry on our traditions."

He paused to gauge their attentions then continued, "As our empire expands many new peoples are brought under our fold, but we must not forget our past."

Raising his massive sculpted red arm, he reached out and pointed toward the farthest end of the valley. "This year we have been mightily blessed, for the tomb of our greatest ancestor has been uncovered for the first time in over 500 years. Today I will pay my respects to King Ajax and the Dark Lords who followed him. Let us not forget what has happened, what might happen again. It is a lesson we should not forget. In times of peace one must secure it by preparing for war. The Rakata came and our ancestors triumphed. When the time comes for another foe, we shall do the same." Hord's thunderous voice echoed long after his words stopped.

His people looked at him with awe and respect.

Tulak reached into a large satchel that was slinged around his neck and unsheathed a gleaming oynx battle axe forged by the best Sith alchemists of a long dead era. He heaved the hefty axe above his head and shouted, "Let us return to our ancestors what is rightfully theirs!"

The people cheered.

The mighty axe of the Sith's only king would be finally brought back to its resting place after a hundred millenia. It was truly a great day for the Sith.

Lords Adina and Serq beamed with pride at their master. Being warriors, they greatly admired what Tulak was doing. All warriors deserved to be buried with their weapons. It was a matter of honor. The past was being set right. King Ajax's weapon would be returned.

Meanwhile, Lord Nechos looked on in disgust. He saw a great emblem of the Sith being buried away under an ocean of sand. Such items possessed great symbolic power and the mere sight of them could stir people into a frenzy. With that axe he could have challenged Hord's title as Dark Lord of the Sith.

Behind Nechos stood another of the ten Lords of the Sith. Sabah Daku wore a full length, violet, armor-mail coat. An elaborate headress crowned his bald, red skinned scalp. Beneath the ornate hat was a pair of piercing almond eyes. Those eyes looked at Nechos and saw a tuk'ata, a hound native to Korriban. True to form, Nechos was circling his prey. Yet when Sabah gazed at Hord, he did not see a great Lord of the Sith unifying his people. Instead he saw the bloody face of his dying friend, gasping sickly for air. Those gray eyes staring intently, then slipping away into the void. And ten steps away, the new Dark Lord of the Sith was triumphantly cherishing his victory.

Even after all these years, Lord Daku had never forgiven Hord. He vowed to himself that he never would.

Spilling his cup as he cheered, Lord Erathipa congratulated his master. "Lord Tulak! Let us decorate King Ajax's tomb and toast to his glory!"

Erathipa's big smile brought cheer to Tulak's heart. Before him stood a very large man of great girth and yet he was the happiest man Tulak had ever met. He was sure that never was their a Sith with more cheer.

"Yes, let us drink to the greatest Sith there ever was!"

All those around rose cups and wineskins to their mouths in honor or their king.

As the sun set, the Sith put their dead to rest and held feasts before the tombs. All throughout the valley, people gathered around fires and shared stories of those now set into the desert hard pan. They drank and ate and were happy.

Befor the jade palatial tomb of King Ajax, stood a massive tent. Gathered beneath it was Hord and his Sith Lords, along with their families and servants. Goblets were raised in numerous toasts and their were plenty of roasted beasts to be eaten by all. At this celebration no one would go of thirst or hunger. Much of the casks of wine and tables of meat were passed outside so that all the Sith could enjoy. It was a time of celebration.

As the night wore on, even Lord Nechos and Lord Tulak were laughing and jesting with eachother. All animosity had been evaporated by drink and good spirits.

All except Sabah Daku.

Each drink went down harder and faster than the last. The more Tulak smiled, the more Sbah's hatred burned. Blood shot eyes glared at Tulak with anger. Vengeance begged to be had. Tradition demanded it. So did the dead.

A cold, rasping voice whispered in Sabah's ear. "Look at him Sabah. He took my title, my life, and now he gloats for all to see, even the dead."

_Murderer._

"They worship him like a king, all because he returned Ajax's battle axe. If I'd lived, I could've done that…and you would have been there at my side…to share the glory."  
_Murderer._

"Friends live on…even in death Sabah. Remember me…" The voice disappeared into the desert night, perhaps slipping back into its tomb. But inside of Sabah, the dark side swelled-

"MURDERER!" Sabah screamed.

He threw his drink to the ground and drew his sword. The mingling crowd before him quickly parted. Tulak Hord stood defiantly, studying his opponent.

Sabah charged, his sword held high over his head, screaming curses as he ran. As he approached Hord, Sabah's sword swung in an exaggerated arc, flying over his shoulder and coming down hard on Tulak's armored pauldron. The blow dropped Tualk to his knee. He looked up at Sabah and grunted as he returned to his feet.

Undetered, Sabah brought the sword back up for another swing. Wild rage filled his burning red eyes.

Calmly Tulak spoke. "That was it Sabah. You only get one strike, no more."

The strenght of command in that voice was untouched by the poisoning fingers of alcohol. It quickly sobered Sabah to his senses.

"You murdered my friend Hord. For that I can never forgive you." Replied Sabah.

Hord's cold black eyes studied him for a moment, peering into the man's soul. "I don't ask for your forgiveness, Lord Daku, only your service to your people. Only the strong may rule. You know our ways. Things our as they must be. The dead die so that the strong may live. They are the foundation of our people."

Sabah looked into Hord's eyes and listened to his words. He dropped his sword and turned his back. No more celebrations tonight. Sabah was done remembering the dead. It brought only pain.

In a distant corner of the tent, surrounded by his entourage, Lord Nechos watched with a magnificent, radiating smile. His eyes saw a Sith Lord skulking away in defeat. However, his mind saw an ally.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: "Expanding the Empire"**

Uncharted System just Outside current Sith Space:

A small Sith Battle Group lies in the black, star speckled blanket of galaxy. At 215 meters, a lone Sith Battleship waits to be unleashed. Seven gunships, a respectable 75 meters each, wait along with it, and so do a couple dozen pickets. Beyond their sensors is an inhabited system. In time, it will be just another colony of the Sith Empire.

Lord Serq stands ominously on the battleship's bridge. Seven feet of dark- clad, heavy armor.

"Father, why do we strike in such small numbers? There are dozens of battleships in your fleet, why send only one?" Asked Raza.

The Sith Lord looked down at his son. He was twelve today. Small, red, fleshy tendrils were beginning to sprout underneath his nose. He was a pure blood Sith, like him. Red-skinned, left-handed, and force-sensitive.

Raza was skilled in the Force and learned quickly. And like his father, he had a knack for Sith magic.

Serq answered his son's question. "When a task is easy, you learn nothing. When it is difficult, you learn much."

Raza paused to consider this.

"Lord Serq." Spoke the comm officer, "our reconnaissance ship reports the enemy fleet has finished assembling."

"Good. Everyone knows their orders." Serq nodded to the ship's captain. "Vend, you'll take command. Wait for my signal."

* * *

The native inhabitants of the system called themselves the Paal'suul. Several weeks ago they had the good fortune of coming across a spy within their government. By sheer chance his disguise got caught in a transit door and his true identity was revealed. After an in depth interrogation, the red-skinned spy spoke of a vast empire led by supernatural beings. With a bit more effort, he talked about his mission. Just before he died, the poor soul broke completely.

The Paal'suul learned of the Sith fleet planning to invade their system. They had two weeks to prepare. All was ready.

One hundred and seventeen vessels of war were assembled.

They were light cruisers by galactic standards. The Paal'suul classified them as destroyers or Sen'kan. Each was forty meters long and armed with two energy cannons or two missile launchers. Through numbers, they sought strength.

"Admiral, are sensors have detected distant ships outside the system." Replied the Chief Navigator.

Admiral Gran'dul, commander of the Paal'suul Defense Fleet, beamed in anticipation. "We will crush these invaders yet! Signal all ships, full speed,  
we will meet these devil's head-on before they are ready."

And so the Paal'suul fleet rushed out to engage the Sith.

Gran'dul's ships, holding the numerical advantage, swept out and surrounded the small Sith fleet.

The Officer of the Deck approached Gran'dul. "Admiral, the Sith have established communications, they wish to speak with you."

"Fools." Replied Gran'dul sharply. "They think there dark powers can defeat us. We will wipe them out before they get a chance!"

The Admiral turned to the Chief Weapons Officer. "Have all ships open fire on the large vessel, will send their commander to the depths first."

Instantly, the entire Paal'suul fleet opened fire. Over a hundred and fifty purple beams of plasma and nearly a hundred ionized missiles streaked out across space, slamming into the lone Sith Battleship. Its heavy armor withstood half a volley before being breached. In the dead silence of space, the glowing explosions engulfed the ship like a plague of fiery blossoms. Eerily the giant vessel began to bend at the center, then it separated into two.

The crew, on Admiral Gran'dul's Sen'kan destroyer, erupted in cheers. Before them was the crippled remains of the Sith's flagship.

"Sir, Sir...ADMIRAL!" Shouted the Officer of the Deck.

Gran'dul shifted his attention. The stern face of his deck officer brought him back to reality. "What is it?"

"Sir, we have multiple ships appearing behind us at two separate approach vectors." The deck officer spoke calmly.

* * *

Serq could see his battleship erupting in flames, splitting in two. Hundreds of energy beams and projectiles tearing it to pieces. Trembling, the image  
in his mind's eye began to flicker.

"Now!" Commanded Serq.

The mass illusion had taken its toll on his body, but it worked. Now, as he regained his senses, he saw the current overhead display of his forces.

Four gunships attacked from one vector, three gunships and his battleship attacked from an opposite one. Both groups were now poised to attack  
the Paal'suul from behind, their attention still focused on the vanishing illusion. Their forces were spread thin.

Volleys from the Sith ships evaporated the enemy's Sen'kan destroyers. Blazing white fireballs opened holes in the Paal'suul encirclement. Debris choked up space like a clouded asteroid field.

"We have them now, Lord Serq!" Replied the battleship's commander, Captain Vend, enthusiastically.

Serq looked at his son. "You see, the art of war is deception. We took away the enemy's numerical superiority, ensured the element of surprise, and divided their forces by attacking from two directions."

Raza stared up at his father in awe. Serq smiled back.

* * *

Outside the Paal'suul ships continued to be vaporized while they struggled to turn their vessels about.

Admiral Gran'dul stood still aboard the bridge. The exploding ships presented a surreal mosaic. Silent death. His body felt numb with shock.

"It's over." He muttered under his breath. "We've lost."

The deck officer turned to his commander. "Admiral, should we offer terms of surrender?"

Gran'dul looked hard at his second in command. If he surrendered, the rest of his men might be spared.

He looked at the situation map. Green patchworks of lines tried to establish imaginary quadrants of space. Blue dots, representing his fleet, were steadily winking out. The yellow dots were stationary. They held two opposing positions that were tearing the Paal'suul fleet to shreds. Of a hundred and seventeen vessels, he had already lost thirty-eight.

Gran'dul's voice was haggard and subdued. "Command all ships to hold fire, open me a channel with the _Sith_ commander."

As the Paal'suul ships ceased firing, the Sith forces followed suit. The comm display on Gran'dul's bridge opened with a burst of static. Out of the  
white and black speckles, an image appeared. A red-skinned being clad in dark, savage armor. His voice was deep and resonate.

"I am Lord Mazul Serq, commander of this fleet. Am I speaking with the being in charge of the Paal'suul forces before us?" Asked the booming warlord.

Gran'dul took a moment to gather himself. "Yes, I am Admiral Fann Gran'dul, Commander of the Paal'suul Defense Fleet. We wish to offer a surrender."

The Sith commander measured the man before him with reservation. "Under what terms?"

"Under the circumstances, I'd say that depends on what _you_ want." It was a smooth reply.

Lord Serq stood silently on the display screen. "Pledge allegiance to the Sith Empire. Your people will go on as they have before but a portion of your systems wealth, materials, and manpower will be given to us. Your military vessels will be handed over. Your military forces will be inspected and some will be integrated with ours. Occupation forces will be placed in your system. In return we will not wipe your civilization from existence."

A hard lump went down Gran'dul's throat. All the rights of his people would be thrown away with such ease. But they would live.

* * *

Serq signaled for the comm to be silenced, the feed continued but the sound was cut off. He turned to his ship's captain and his son.

"He's not going for it." He replied.

"But Lord, how can you tell? Why would he throw his life away, there is no way his forces can triumph." Captain Vend replied.

"I've asked him to give up everything. Any less of a man would accept as long as his people's lives were spared. But this one...he has pride. Rather  
than lowering himself and his people to servitude, he would fight to the death. I would do no less. For that I admire him." Spoke Serq coolly.

He looked back at his son, gaining his attention. "You see, it had to happen this way. We sent spies to make sure of it. They made sure the Paal'suul  
would muster their forces in retaliation, thus allowing us to eliminate any threat they might pose in one fowl swoop. It quickened the process. Now we will destroy their entire fleet, sparing none." He paused in thought.

"It's a shame to have to destroy the vessels, for we could use them. But there is more to gain from their destruction. It will be symbolic of our power. When the inhabitants of their world look up to see the victorious return of their massive fleet, they will see but a handful of our ships. They will see what one Sith Battleship can do. In the future we could quell any threat or rebellion by sending five or six battleships. For if one could destroy their fleet, half a dozen could surely destroy their world. They will be under our complete control." As the words rolled out of his mouth, a sinister smile crept across his face.

Raza smiled too.

* * *

"What's going on? Why did we lose sound?" Asked Gran'dul.

The comm officer checked his equipment readings. "Everything appears to be fine sir, they must have cut sound on their end."

"Bloody devils." Muttered the admiral. "Probably gloating over their victory."

He turned to his crew. "Men, the situation is dire. Out fleet holds no chance of defeating these savages. I ask you now where you stand: shall we give in and hand our people over into subjugation with some alien hierarchy or should we stand where we are and make them pay a price for their victory?"

The crew looked around at each other. Familiar faces, drawn but not yet defeated, gazed at the eyes of their comrades, gathering their courage.

The Chief Gunner was the first to speak out, "Sir, I'd like a shot at em' before we turn over our families into their hands!"

"I'm for making a stand as well, Admiral!" Shouted the navigator.

Soon everyone was voicing their agreement.

Admiral Gran'dul nodded his head in approval. "Then let us make them pay a cost they'll not soon forget! Let us spill their blood into the void!"

Triumphant cheers rang out on the deck.

* * *

Lord Serq noted the commotion on the comm screen. "It seems they've made their decision. Reopen the comm."

The Paal'suul's cheers began to calm down as the comm's ping interrupted their celebration.

Admiral Gran'dul straightened his uniform and stood dignified before the comm screen projector. "_Lord_ Serq, I'm sorry to say we decline your _gracious_ offer, but my people's freedom is worth far more than that. Please send my regards to the maker."

Static filled the screen as the comm transmission cut off. It was followed by a simultaneous volley of energy blasts.

The bridge shuddered from the incoming fire.

Serq looked at the captain. "Well...return fire. Now we end this."

Sith blaster cannons and auto-lasers sprayed out into the Paal'suul fleet. Ships on both sides took fire. The heaviest barrages fell upon the Sith Battleship. Yet even the concentrated volleys from half the enemy fleet was not enough to pierce the monstrous hull of the Sith ship. Sith metallurgy was far more advanced than the primitive plasma weapons these beings possessed.

Thoughtfully Serq spoke to his son. "You see, they have missed their opportunity. If they had concentrated on the gunships instead of the battleship, they might have inflicted some damage upon us. Instead they vent their anger on the largest thing in view. And thus their fury burns itself out like a harmless glowfly."

Raza looked at his father, then out the viewport. His face seemed troubled.

"Do you worry for them Raza?" Asked Serq warmly.

He hesitated. "It feels like, like...like slaughtering the renshams for the annual harvest."

_Ah yes, the renshams._

That had been a hard time for Raza. Renshams were kept as livestock on Ziost. Their thick coats of fur made them favorite pets with the children. They would pet them and often cuddle with them in the cold winds when they played outside. Such innocent creatures, they would eat right out of your hand. Most would follow you around. Yet when the brief summers came, the renshams were gathered up and slaughtered for meat. Raza had grown close with them, and each year it filled his heart with sorrow to see them butchered.

And now these foreigners, the Paal'suul, were being cut down without being able to strike back. And even though they tried, it still amounted to nothing.

"Son do not feel pain for these people. They stand before us today as warriors." Counceled Serq.

Raza straightened up a bit at hearing this. The way of the warrior was firmly drilled into his being. One never diminished another's honor. It was  
sacrilege.

"To shed tears or sorrow for them would stain their honor. We must greet them with open arms and give them a warrior's death, for they have earned it." Serq meant every word, it was a philosophy he held as pure religion.

And there was no one more religious in war than he.

* * *

Dim red lights blinked on the bridge. Hissing sounds screamed through the vents. Sparks and smoke popped out every terminal and station.

Gran'dul shifted on the floor, laying in a puddle of warm liquid.

He could see bodies everywhere. Some twitched, while others were motionless. Yet the world still spun in the Admiral's vision.

A throbbing pulsed in his head. Knowledge pierced his brain like a sharp spear point.

_The warm goo I'm slipping in is my blood. It's only a matter of time._ He thought.

Klaxons still rang in the ship's corridors. Barely, through the smoke, he could still see laser bolts screeching past the bridge viewport, slamming  
into some unseen vessel.

_It was a good death. One to be proud of. My boy would be proud. But Treesh wouldn't._ That thought hurt, as if his real wounds weren't bad enough. _She'll understand...I hope._

Blackness began to creep into his eyes. The world before him slipped away, drowning out all sound, all pain, _all_.

They say, in many cultures, that a warrior never dies, he merely fades into the ether.

That's exactly how it felt.

**Ziost, The Dark Lord's Palace:**

Thousands of light years away, the Dark Lord, Tulak Hord, exercised in his training room. Sweat coated his body's red skin. His muscles throbbed from effort. A red blade hummed in his hands.

Power coursed through his veins as he swung the sword effortlessly. Each swing filled his mind with an intoxicating venom.

He couldn't explain it, but just holding the weapon somehow brought happiness to his inner being. Pleasure. Glee.

Another weightless stroke swept through the air, battering away yet another probe.

_How dull and simple these droids are. Without thrill._ He thought to himself.

He turned his attention to the barley living creature ten steps away. It was a _Korriban Zombie_, at least that's what they were called. In reality, this one was from Ziost. No matter.

The arts of Sith alchemy and magic had many advantages. For one, they could bring the dead back to life.

Of course they couldn't think, nor remember what their decaying brains once held. But they could fight. And they were amazingly strong and persistent.

This time there was effort with the swing. The lighter than air blade cruised forward and slowed with resistance. Slowed by the flesh.

_Ah, yes. This is more like it!_ Thought Hord. _Not like the robots. Metal doesn't cut the same, doesn't _feel_ the same._

Oh yes, the cutting of flesh gave Tulak an odd rush, one that made him slightly light headed. It was as much a drug as pure spice. And it was addictive. If Tulak was not careful, he might become addicted to his new found hobby.

_No. It's not like that._ He assured himself. _I am in control. Nothing forces my hand but my _own_ will._

Yet somehow the words ran hollow in his head. They were overwhelmed by tiny, tulmultuous screams. _Again. Again. Again._

And the crimson bladed lightsaber continued to cut.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Lozon System:** **The Planet Liindzeck, beyond the upper ridges of Sith Space**

Adina's crack shock troops, the Red Hand, were about to have a good day. While the main infantry assaulted the enemy's fortress from the high ground of the strung out, red-clay mesa, the Red Hand were to sweep around to the rear, crossing enemy lines in the pre-dawn light, and attacking the weakest perimeter of the fortress' guard.

Seeped in the morning mists, the troops suited up with light gear. Soldiers carefully selected their most valuable and essential equipment. For the coming battle they would need speed.

Swiftness would be the key to victory.

* * *

A Sith soldier oiled his blaster rifle in the dim, pre-dawn light. Oily fumes permeated the air as he worked. Yet his attention was focused on the person next to him. He was a Sith too, a pureblood. All of the Red Hand troops were. Only this one was stuffing his pockets with ammo and...

"Ixtren, what in the Adas' name are you doing?" Asked the Sith, still oiling his blaster.

Ixtren turned with a smile. "What's it look like, Bados? I'm packing my gear."

Bados stopped what he was doing in puzzlement. "You've got enough ammo to supply a platoon, that I can understand, but what's that other stuff your packing? That looks like a burnt up...lizard."

"It is." Replied Ixtren. "It's called f-o-o-d." He drew the word out like one would to an infant learning a new word.

"What are you planning on doing, taking a picnic during the battle. You're loosing it buddy." Bados jived.

Continuing to stuff the meter long blackened lizard into his backpack, Ixtren simply laughed. "You missed out on Ataron, you wouldn't know."

Now Bados was intrigued. He'd heard a few things about the Ataron campaign. None of it was very good.

"Alright, what happened on Ataron that would make this picture so much clearer? What would give cause to pack a barbequed lizard for battle?" Asked Bados in an exaggerated tone.

"Well there was one fight in particular. It was a fairly simple op. Go in, overrun the enemy positions, easy day. We had the element of surprise after all. The problem was they put up a fight that would've made a terentatek turn tail. So we dug in." Ixtren paused to finish buckling up his backpack. "As usual, I had plenty of ammo, but by the third day nobody had any food. The Attarons brought in reinforcements and surrounded us. We were cut off and the supply chains severed. Took four weeks for command to break through the encirclement."

Four weeks no food. Bados shuddered. Ixtren saw the comprehension on his friend's face.

"We drank out of mud puddles and tried to live off swamp rats and juno beetles. But there were too many of us and pretty soon those became scarce. Some men died of dehydration. A few sought other means to survive." He let the grim memories pass without further explanation.

He reached down and picked up his combat belt. He strapped it on. Bados noticed that four canteens were attached to it.

Bados put down the oil rag and set his rifle on a bucket. Ixtren watched his buddy disappear into a tent. When he came out, he was carrying three canteens. Wide smiles radiated across their crimson faces. Better to be prepared than empty handed.

A half hour passed before the order came. Two hundred soldiers of the "Red Hand" were strewn out in a rough line, all of them on their bellies. Before them the thick morning mists poured out the earth. Beyond the fog was the faint black outline of their target, a heavily fortified city bastion.

The Red Hand's commander led his squad forward. The other companies followed suit.

Through the wisps of dew they stalked the battlefield like ghosts. Silence beat down like a drum. Then the artillery spoke.

The city's silhouette was illuminated by the bright flashes of incoming rounds. The entire ruckus was focused on the far side of the city, leaving the south in a false peace.

With the enemy distracted, the Red Hand troops charged the wall.

Ixtren and Bados followed their squad leader to the foot of the immense barrier. Quickly they took out their grappling hooks and heaved them to the top for purchase. It was a slow and difficult ascent but all of them were driven to succeed. The Red Hand never failed, never lost, and never ever accepted defeat. With single minded zeal, the troops made it over the wall.

Bados managed to get there before Ixtren. Extra ammo was nice, but it was also heavy. Bados found some humor in that thought. Yet the humor disappeared once he climbed over wall's upper railing.

Two defenders were watching the artillery barrage to the north. Both of their backs were facing him. All sound was drowned out in the barrage. They didn't hear Bados' feet hit the duraplex platform. Nor the sound of his blaster rifle's energy plant whining as it powered up for the kill. Two emerald beams of light shot through their chests and continued their flight over the city rooftops. The sentries' mouths hung agape, but no screams could be heard. Only the continuous thunder of the artillery barrage.

All along the wall, the troops of the Red Hand took their positions and eliminated the enemy defenders. No alarm had been sounded. Surprise was still on their side.

* * *

General Fral received the confirmation via short wave comm. The Sith now controlled the far wall. The high ground was theirs.

"Lord Adina, operation Shyrack is a success." Replied the General.

"Good. Give the orders to commence full assault." Commanded the Sith Lord.

* * *

Within moments Sith fighter bombers screamed over the city, emptying plasma charges and automatic blaster fire into the buildings below. On the ground, the infantry forces charged the crumbling wreckage of the city's defensive walls. From the high elevation of the south wall, the Red Hand poured down sniper fire into the enemy positions. Resistance died almost instantly.

A white flag was raised from the top of one of the taller buildings. Blaster fire came to a stop. Only the moans of the wounded broke the silence of the aftermath.

"Victory." Replied Ixtren.

Bados slapped him on the back. "See, didn't need that lizard after all. Just needed a little faith in your commanders."

Both of them looked out into the smoldering rubble of the city, measuring the results of the battle.

* * *

Lord Adina made his way into the city, passing through the mangled streets. Wisps of smoke still poured from the craters and bathed the areas between buildings in an eerie blanket. Survivors still roamed through the rubble. Some looked for the living, others carted off the dead. Any of the enemy still alive was bound off in chains.

The surreal reality covered Adina in a comforting cloak. It brought joy to his strange, gray heart.

To some war is a glorious thing. People fight for their beliefs and die for their country. Things like honor, chivalry, and patriotism fill them with hope. But then the harsh realities of war hit them, and glory goes out the window.

Yet for Adina, it only swelled his thirsty heart. For unlike many, he loved it, truly.

Even now, as his cold brown eyes soaked in the battlefield, he relished it. The smell of blaster burns and concussive missile residue, mortified bodies juxtaposed in all manner of positions, severed limbs scattered like decorations among the bombed out hulls of wreckage and fresh scars of earth.

The eyes drank deep and savored it all.

He could still hear the thunderous echoes of the artillery, the sharp cries of heavy batteries, and whines of blaster fire. A symphony of sound, music to his ears.

There was a name for people like him: warmonger. It was a label he held with secret pleasure. To him, there was no aspect of war he did not enjoy.

Perhaps psychopath was a better description.

"My Lord, the enemy commander wishes to discuss terms of surrender." Reported a Sith field lieutenant.

"Tell them they will be treated fairly. All enemy combatants will stay in an internment camp until we can ship them off world. Civilians will be kept segregated and held in camp outside the city walls. Certain privileges and freedoms may be worked out to allow them to gather their belongings." Replied Lord Adina.

The lieutenant snapped a sharp salute, "Yes milord," turned and departed.

* * *

Their conquered foe was herded in long, shuffling lines. The defeated wore long faces, eyes staring off into the distance while their minds thought of fallen and injured comrades, the fate of imprisonment, and their families being left behind.

They say the hardest march a soldier ever makes is one of defeat. Such is made harder when walking toward captivity.

A pale, pink-hued humanoid turned to one of his comrades, "What do you think will happen to us now?"

His comrade, of a dark blue complexion, returned an empty stare. "Probably send us off world into a labor camp."

Pinky thought about that. Slave labor on a strange world, working to sustain his oppressors. It was a gloomy thought.

"Quiet there!" Snapped one of Sith soldiers, "Get back in line, you've got a long march ahead of you," a smile spread under his red tentacled mustache, "best conserve your energy."

By midday the prisoners were finally gathered up in a temporary holding pin inside the Sith camp. Behind electrified security fences stood nearly 12,000 prisoners of war.

Lord Adina sat in his landspeeder. He gazed through the fence at the prisoners within. Spoils of war. And tools.

He turned to his field commander, General Fral. "General, I have a special task I want you to perform. Gather two companies and put them to work at severing the right arm off each prisoner we have assembled in the camp. Have the arms gathered and loaded on our assault shuttles. Then, when the task is completed, dump the contents on the enemy's capital. Send whatever aerial escorts you'll need to protect the shuttles." Adina's cold brown eyes stared into his commander. "We will bombard their morale with the severed limbs of their comrades. Then they shall know the will of the Sith. Resistance is futile."

General Fral hesitated. "My Lord, won't that complicate matters? Might it serve to bolster the enemy's resolve?"

Adina listened to the General's plight with endeared patience. "Do not worry General, I have my purposes. All will be brought to light in time."

The General nodded his head, saluted, and left. Adina contemplated the General's slight glitch of faith. Surely he should recognize the advantages of manipulating your enemy to further your 'own' resolve. He would learn. Or else.

On the peaceful capital of New Terrance, the citizens were granted a sight they had never before seen or imagined. In the true sense of the macabre, it was absolutely nightmarish.

People ran in terror as the city's air raid sirens screamed throughout the streets. A steady stream of Sith assault ships raced across the violet sky. Scrambling for shelter, the inhabitants pushed and shoved each other in mass hysteria. Yet, to their surprise, no bombs were dropped. No death rays blasting the helpless inhabitants. Instead bloodied disembodied limbs poured down from the ships and smashed into the chaotic scene below.

At first people were stunned. Then the wary suspected biological threat. But for the truly stunned or curious who dared to inspect the projectiles, the truth was far more horrifying. They were simple arms. Right arms. Arms of their countrymen.

The Sith shuttles continued to pour their payload onto the city until all 12,000 arms were delivered. The result was that every citizen could look out their windows and see at least a dozen red mashed arms lying in the street, smashed through speeder windows, and draped in trees and on signs.

The act swept through the capital and the news quickly reached the rest of the defenders on the planet. Revenge was in the air.

* * *

Three weeks later...

"My Lord, I have troubling news." Replied a lieutenant.

Adina didn't bother to look at the subordinate. He was still rapt up in the pleasing aftermath of battle.

His forces had just captured a major supply and armaments depot. The enemy was defeated after a difficult and brutal close quarters engagement. They fought with more heart than the Sith invaders and for good reason: the Sith were here to expand their 'glorious empire.' The defenders fought to protect their home, their families, and for survival. They had everything to lose and everything to gain.

General Fral interrupted Adina's sightseeing. "Milord, I think they would have put up less of a fight if we hadn't goaded them like so."

"You doddle too much where you know too little, General. Psychology is not your strong point. Stick to maneuver and logistics, that 'is' why I selected you after all." Snapped Adina, the General was trying his patience. "Besides, the lieutenant brings good news."

"My Lord, we found over a dozen or our men brutally butchered in one of their buildings." The lieutenant hesitated. "Some of them are still alive, but without arms or legs. The medics are tending to them as we speak."

Fral was the first to speak, "So that's what happened to our scout company. They must of been ambushed."

"You're dismissed lieutenant." Replied Adina.

As the lieutenant left, Adina spoke to Fral, "General, I want you to make sure a handful of men in camp personally see what the enemy has done here. Pick out some volunteers to help the medics."

General Fral looked up at his commander. "Is this part of your 'strategy', my lord?"

Adina's face was hard to read. A mixture of emotionless calm and far off thought.

"It's a matter of cause and effect, General." Adina began, "We mutilate a handful of them and, in turn, they mutilate a few of ours to an even greater degree. Now some of our men will see what the enemy has done and they will spread the word to others. Soon everyone in camp will know and hate will begin to boil. They'll be talk of revenge and payback. I will use that rage to motivate them to victory."

Fral tried to follow along as Adina explained his strategy.

"The enemy was already significantly motivated to fight us from the beginning, they must defend their very homes. We, on the other hand, are simply following orders. The only motivation our men have is fear and ambition." Adina waved one of his arms in emphasis, "But now they have a purpose. They will see their fellow soldiers bloodied, dead, and crippled. They will want revenge and they will fight!"

The General contemplated the matter a little longer. It was a sound strategy, and it might work. Adina saw the recognition and nodded. Understanding had dawned.

* * *

Two months of preparation had passed. The Sith forces had maneuvered the defenders into taking a final stand in the fortress walls of their capital. It was time for the end game.

On one side nearly a hundred thousand native troops rallied an equal number of the populace into a large, cohesive defensive force. Barricades and gun nests were set up throughout the city. Weapons and ammunition were handed out to anyone with the will to fight. Men, women, and children were preparing for a last stand.

Their counterparts awaited beyond the city walls, lying just 1000 meters out in the flat, sweeping plains. The Sith Army stood 10,000 strong. Sith warbeasts, armored siege vehicles, aerial bombers and fighters, three infantry regiments, and the elite Red Hand were set for the operation. The final battle of Liindzeck.

Amongst this vast camp of warriors stood two men, comrades in arms.

"So, whadaya think about this one?" Asked Bados.

Ixtren thought for a moment, then pulled out a long, vicious looking knife. The curved, serrated blade stretched a full 40cm in length. A dull, black finish coated the massive blade.

"I think were finally going to get a chance to settle the score with those 'colorguards'." Snarled Ixtren.

By now the entire Sith Army had become imbued with a common hatred for the enemy. Since the natives came in a varied swath of complexions, they were nicknamed 'colorguards'. It also made them a target for trophies. For over a month now, ears had become all the fashion. Soldiers made necklaces out of them and competed for numbers and colors.

Bados was angry at the 'colorguards' but he hadn't quite worked up the rage to start collecting ears. By the sound of his buddy though, it seemed Ixtren was eager to begin.

"Why the sudden change in heart? You've had plenty of chances to start a necklace in these last few weeks but I've never saw you take one. Even when we were the only ones who weren't." Replied Bados.

Ixtren returned a hollow gaze. "Loseph bought it two days ago. We found what was left of him-"

That was all Bados needed to hear. The war was getting more personal everyday. All of them were ready to make this battle the last. And the colorguards were going to pay very dearly for the effort.

A massive salvo of energy beams sounded the beginning of the battle. The crimson beams crashed down into the city, smashing buildings into mounds of rubble.

Next came the Sith War Behemoths. The large tusked creatures carried heavy blaster cannons on their backs and served as mobile assault guns.

Ixtren and Bados watched as nearly 80 of the towering beasts trudged their way forward. Their guns rained an unrelenting bombardment on the enemy walls.

Then they felt the ground shake.

"They're sending out the bolsha." Cried Ixtren over the thundering barrages.

Bados nodded. The bolsha were giant worms the Sith altered with ancient alchemic rituals. Through training they had been bread to tunnel under ground and pop up right under the enemy's feet. They made a very potent weapon of surprise.

Then the screams of fighter bombers filled the air.

Bados also noticed a company of battle Hydras swooping in on the left flank. Sith warriors rode on their backs. They would fly over the enemy and strike from above, systematically picking off enemy officers and heavy weapons.

"Alright men! Let's show those 'colorguards' what the Crimson Red can do!" Yelled the squad leader.

The men cheered in return and charged forward into the maelstrom.

First into the fray were the warbirds.

As Ixtren ran towards the enemy, he watched them being torn to pieces by the ferocious beasts. Razor sharp talons and beaks ripped the enemy into shreds. Mounted riders fired dual auto-blasters into anyone the birds missed.

"Hurry boys! Before the warbirds take'em all!" Shouted Bados.

The Red Hand troops pushed forward even harder.

* * *

From a distance, Adina watched his forces unfurl upon the enemy. Bolsha towered over the walls devouring the sentries on top, behemoths tore holes into the city with their heavy cannons, and the hydras were already sweeping down on the enemy gun emplacements. Their commanders had become fodder.

"Look milord, the Red Hand has caught up with the warbirds. They're making short work of the defenders now!" Replied General Fral enthusiastically.

Yes. The butchering had commenced. "Inform the fighter bombers to concentrate on the enemy's rearguard." Adina spoke to his comm officer.

He watched as the airborne forces moved their attacks farther back into the city.

"Do you think they will surrender, my lord?" Asked Fral.

Adina stood in a long black cape. A tall, peaked helmet crowned his head. His pale, white face stared into the crashing waves of the battle.

"No. Not yet. Though they may." He said, softly.

* * *

Bados lied in a ditch, blaster fire grazing over his back. Ixtren poured laser fire into a group of colorguards as he sought cover behind the corner of a bombed out building.

Taking advantage of a pause in the oncoming fire, Bados pulled out a plasma charge and chucked it towards a group of defenders. An earsplitting blast pelted him with gravel and chunks of debris.

He snapped to his feet, firing as he charged. Bolts sprayed the enemy positions, forcing them to take cover.

He dropped into another ditch. This time closer, and with more protection.

A Sith sniper began picking off the enemy soldiers as they popped their heads above their cover.

One by one, Bados watched their colorful heads explode like overripe melons.

When no more heads popped up, Bados plowed forward and darted behind the enemy's cover. He put a couple bolts through anything that moved and double checked to make  
sure they were dead. All clear.

Quickly he moved on, hugging a nearby corner. Peaking around, he saw a firefight being exchanged between two buildings. He turned around to find the rest of his squad.

"Bados, what's the situation?" Asked the squad leader.

"Enemy's holding out on the second floor, three buildings down sir. Another squad is trading fire from the ground floor across the street." Yelled Bados over the noise.

The squad leader looked over at Ixtren, three bloody ears dangled around his neck. "Ixtren, you and Bados sweep around to the rear of that building. Take the enemy out from the inside. We'll cover you."

Four more Sith formed up and prepared to provide cover fire. Ixtren and Bados bent their knees in sprinting stances. As soon as they began their run, their squad opened up.

Chaos and rubble blurred by as they hauled ass into the alley across the street. Breathing heavily, they worked their way down the back alleys, all the way to the building where the enemy was holding out in.

Bados kicked the door in with his armored boot, knocking it off its hinges.

They poured through, checking their blind spots and corners. No one in sight.

Looking around, they spotted some stairs and headed for the second floor. Ixtren took the lead.

As they reached the second floor, Ixtren cut around the corner into a hallway. A double barrel blast of energy slammed into his chest, knocking him off his feet. Bados screamed in rage, filling the hallway

with green bolts of rapid fire energy. The enemy defender's body fell to the ground riddled with black, charred, smoking holes.

Ixtren groaned in pain.

"Hold on buddy!" Bados cried.

He knew he had to keep going. There was nothing he could do for Ixtren right now, and so he pressed on.

There was nobody else on the second floor, so he went up to the third. As he eased to the corner, he listened to the movement down the hall.

The tones of voices echoed in two or three different rooms. Blaster fire was still pounding into both sides.

Bados took out another plasma charge and tossed it down around the corner. The explosion ripped through the interior walls choking the hallway full of dust. Carefully he took the corner, rifle at hand. Four men were scattered on the floor. Two of them writhing in pain. Two quick, burning bolts put an end to their suffering.

He continued down the hall, approaching the first room. One man was sitting on the ground, his back propped against the wall, blood pouring out of his stomach. His eyes grew wide as he saw the intruder enter the doorway. A weak arm struggled to raise a blaster. Bados put a bolt into his head.

At the window was another gunner. Upon hearing the blaster shot, he turned around. It appeared in slow motion to Bados, he simply put a bolt into the man's chest, sending him backwards and out the window.

A sharp, red-hot sledge hammer ripped into his side.

Bados grabbed his left ribs in scorching pain. Turning around he ripped off a chain of blaster bolts behind him, spraying wildly. A few found their mark.

Looking now at the perpetrator, Bados saw a young woman with light green skin. The black wound in her chest was forcing her to cough up red blood onto her chin.

Feeling pity for the woman, Bados knelt down to her and grasped her shoulder. She looked at him with wide eyes. Those blue, passionate eyes burned into his memory. He would never forget them.

Life slipped out, leaving only a motionless shell. Bados moved on.

The next room housed three more defenders. He dispatched them with another plasma charge. The second floor was now secure.

* * *

"Lord Adina! The enemy has surrendered!" Shouted General Fral as he ran up to the Sith Lord.

Adina kept his composure and took the news in stride. In honesty, he did not think the enemy would give up so soon. If it were him, he would have fought to the last man.  
It was as his father had said, 'compassion and sympathy make one weak, use it to defeat your foes but never let it enter your soul, for if it does, it will be the end of you.'

Harsh words, but true. Adina had made a point to live by them.

"Have the company commanders rally their troops and round up the enemy outside the city walls." Commanded Adina. "And General, forgive some acts of retribution but do not let it turn into a bloodbath. I want the bulk of those prisoners fit for labor and servitude, not hospital beds and graves."

"Yes my lord!" General Fral snapped a salute and went about passing the orders.

Adina simply continued watching the plumes of smoke rise over the city.

This battle was over. The third planet had been conquered. His campaign complete. Perhaps Hord would send him to help Serq in the southern reaches.

_And time to visit the Quasgoul._

* * *

Bados stood over the body of his friend. Ixtren's eyes were shut but his pulse was strong. From behind approached a medic.

"He'll be fine trooper, nothing a little Sith healing can't fix. We'll need to take him in for operation, I'll let you know when we're done." Two medics lifted Ixtren on a stretcher and took him away.

The squad leader made his way toward Bados. "Excellent work today son. I'm recommending you for citation, and due to your status it's a sure thing. Keep it up soldier and you'll be Captain Hord in no time."

Captain Hord. Captain Bados Hord. Son of the Dark Lord of the Sith.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: "Slaughterhouse"**

**The planet Cusnac: Luzige's workshop**

Working diligently under the lamp light, Tulak Hord assembled the intricate pieces laid before him. Focusing crystals, emitter matrixes, lenses, conduits, wires, and insulators were scattered amongst the debris. Yet the most precious element of all was the power cell. For centuries the lightsaber had been handicapped by this one crucial piece. But by fate an Arkanian brought Hord a technological wonder, a functioning internal power cell capable of extended life.

It had become Hord's greatest treasure.

Luckily Lord Luzige had been able to duplicate the Arkanian's unique internal power cell. Now Hord could build to his heart's content.

Deft hands moved swiftly over the parts. Slowly they came together, aided by the Force. A dark concentration. One that resided in the gloomy hollows of Hord's mind. An inner sanctum that brought refuge and power, limitless power.

It was here that all the powers of the dark side flowed, channeling energy throughout the Dark Lord's body. Reflexes were heightened, his focus sharpened, and an eerie guide led insights into dark knowledge.

One of the most closely guarded secrets of the Sith Lords was their attachment, their bond to another being, one shrouded in the Force. Just as the Jedi gained guidance from the Force, so did the Sith. But it wasn't the same source.

"It is far wiser." Hord uttered softly.

The words hovered in the silence. There was no one to hear them, only Hord.

_If only the masses knew what dark wisdom resided in the Force._ He mused to himself. _The wisdom of countless eons, of time everlasting._ He thought.

And it was true. Yet the dark side did not tell him how to heal the masses. Nor how to bring peace and harmony. Instead it revealed paths to power, instruments of untold glory. It longed for domination.

His hands stopped, the work complete.

In the passing of several hours, he managed to craft four exquisite lightsabers to go with his own, all with internal power cells.

"Magnificent." He replied in awe.

The majestic, gleaming handles glowed on the work table's wooden surface. Gold, sliver, bronze, ebony, and pearl. Each crafted with contoured grips and archaic, symbolic imagery.

"The runes of our ancestors." He spoke reverently.

_Ancestors._ Only part of him was truly Sith. The other part was that of the exiles, the chosen ones.

Long ago rogue Jedi arrived on Zion and quickly subdued the native Sith. Due to the Sith's natural force-sensitivity, the exiled Jedi sought to merge with them. Together they mixed. The teachings of the Force blended with Sith alchemy and magic. However, the exiles blood proved dominant. It was stronger than the Sith's. Children born of mixed blood appeared pale or spotty. Eventually all traces of their Sith heritage were lost, even their tentacled facial hair.

One day the Sith race would cease to be.

_But not yet._ He assured himself.

Many Sith had banded together to ensure the purity of their bloodlines. Parents were often careful not to let too much _exile_ blood enter into their family lines. Doctors had set up practices purely in the interest of maintaining and securing dominant Sith genes among families. Many prided themselves in their _pureblood_ status.

Nevertheless, it was only a matter of time. Because, though the Sith were naturally force-sensitive, the exiles were far more powerful. The Force flowed strongly in their veins and bloodlines. Among the Sith, only a few were so strong.

Hord himself was only a third pureblood, the rest was exile. And it showed.

A pale blemish splashed the upper part of his skull. It circled around his left eye and stretched back over his forehead, past the crown of his skull and back to the tape of his neck. Pale spots also speckled the upper regions of his back and numerous streaks adorned his legs.

Even the tips of his stunted, tentacled mustache were pale.

He knew that if he took a wife of mixed blood their child would be even paler than him. The signs of his inheritance would be more exile than Sith.

"But I stopped that, now didn't I?" A very slight smile crept into his cheeks.

Hord made sure that his wife was a pureblood. In fact his son was more Sith than he was.

_As it should be._ He thought.

An unrelenting maxim that was beat into the ideology of every Sith was that _power passed on accumulates_. Each generation should grow stronger than the next. All led to a purpose, a moment of accomplishment, of achievement. It was the way of the Sith.

A creaking noise broke the room's silence. Hord calmly looked over his shoulder.

Standing in the doorway was a muscular red Massassi warrior, covered in the long red quills fashionably favored by his species. Simple bronze plated armor covered his chest and thighs. A long pole staff stretched between his hulking arms.

The Massassi were an offshoot of the Sith race. They tended to have larger builds and more hair, which often grew in long quills. Naturally they made good fighters due to their strength and endurance.

Hord slowly pushed back his chair, rising to his feet, taking in his opponent. But he was not alone.

In the blink of an eye, Tulak Hord drew all five lightsabers to him, taking one in hand, he instantly ignited the crimson blade.

The Massassi warrior smiled then stepped back out of the doorway, disappearing from sight.

A deafening explosion followed.

The concussion wave knocked the wind out Hord's lungs, blasting his organs in a massive vice. Piles of debris assaulted him from all sides, forcing him to the ground.

As the dust and shrapnel settled to the floor, Hord pushed the rubble off of his body.

His surroundings had changed.

Instead of the quiet little work room, he was now standing in an open clearing of shattered ruins. A few walls still stood but the ceiling was completely gone.

At his feet, his lightsaber still hummed, burning through a piece of durasteel. The other four were still cradled in his left arm.

_But where is the Massassi?_ He wondered.

His dark senses came to life. A sharp instance of warning.

Ten Massassi warriors popped up through the building's scattered remains. Each wielding a powerful cortosis alloy staff.

"Perfect." Hord whispered joyfully.

He stretched his arms out, holding the lightsabers in midair with the Force. In succession the red blades hummed to life. Using his mastery of the Force, he circled the lightsabers around him, each held vertically with the blade pointed in the air.

The Massassi warriors hesitated at the scene before them.

But one stepped forward, unafraid. His pole arm held at the ready. He charged forward. The others followed suit.

Hord could have simply shredded them to pieces but instead, he savored the opportunity.

With each lightsaber, he parried the attacks of two foes, blocking the strikes of the cortosis alloy staffs and keeping them at a distance from himself.

Each time one of the Massassi warriors tried to run pass the floating blades, they quickly found themselves the victim of a ruthless onslaught. Blazingly fast strikes pummeled them from all angles of attack.

Somehow Hord wielded each blade with a master's skill without ever touching the hilt. It was if invisible phantoms were guarding the Dark Lord of the Sith with their very lives.

Yet the lust of battle became too great and Hord was compelled to satisfy it.

The gold hilted lightsaber parried the top of a pole axe, pushing the weapon's tip down, exposing the opponent's upper right torso. With a rapid reverse swing, the lightsaber struck at the defenseless warrior. The searing blade tore through the Massassi's collarbone, down into his lungs, stopping halfway through the chest.

The warrior stopped dead in his tracks. His heavy body slumped to its knees, crumpling into the uneven piles of rubble.

Now there were nine.

One by one he cut them down with elegant swipes, stabs, and feints.

Each victim egged him on to an even greater degree.

With his final victim, his battle lust reached its apex. The lone Massassi warrior was run through by all five lightsabers. Simultaneous motions quickly dismembered the hapless creature.

Hord stood fuming from the fight. His dark hatred filling him with power. Swelling his adrenaline in a rush of ecstasy.

Slowly his breathing calmed, his blood cooled, and his vision returned.

The lightsabers floated to him and he hooked each one onto his belt.

In the distance, he sensed the presence of an approaching being.

_Luzige._ He realized.

Running at full speed, the Sith Lord rushed to his master's side. "Lord Tulak, are you alright?"

"Fine." He replied stoically.

Luzige looked at the bodies among the rubble. Massassi warriors.

"Massassi warriors...but only-"

Hord cut him off, "-but only Lord Daku has Massassi warriors at his aide."

"Then Nechos has found an ally." Luzige spoke in a dour tone. "What will you do now, milord?"

Hord paused in thought. He had put up with numerous attempts, by Nechos, on his life. After all, it was the way of the Sith. He who ruled could only continue if he was strong enough to maintain his power. To ensure his strength, he must constantly be tested, either by his apprentices or his peers. But Nechos was insistent. He fed off Hord like a parasite.

"Nechos' game has gone on long enough. His intentions have become a nuisance. It is time to put an end to it." He stated sternly.

Luzige nodded in approval. "Did your lightsabers survive the blast?"

Hord spread his cape revealing the five immaculate cylinders hanging from his belt.

"Splendid!" Luzige exlaimed, admiring the craftsmanship.

Walking off of the rubble, Hord's mind peered into the future. He looked through the dark swirls trying to pull out Nechos' face, to see his fate.

Alas there was nothing to be seen. His mind was still too flush from battle.

"What about Lord Daku? Will you seek him out as well?" Asked Luzige.

"No cousin, I think Daku will have a change of heart when he sees what happens to Nechos. It will be quite the surprise." He grinned malevolently, his mind already visualizing the battle.

Luzige mirrored his master's response, sharing with a smile of his own.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7 "Days and Prophecy"  
**  
_Each of the Sith Lords were granted a handful of inhabited planets to control. Together these worlds formed the Empire of the Sith. Some contained valuable mines and raw materials. Others were well developed industrialized words. Yet one world in particular had a value all its own.  
_  
**The planet Shalmol, within Adina's sphere of Sith Space:**

An elegant, black starship sliced through the atmosphere. Rays of light reflected off its glossy surface. The pointed hull was reminiscent of a beaked skull with round viewports as eyes.

Lord Adina's ship glided gently to the surface of the planet. The coarse earth below had once been the bedrock of an ancient ocean. Now it was merely a landing pad amongst a great depression.

Two landing arms unfolded underneath the ship. Their talon like claws finding purchase in dirt hardpan. With a rasping of the air locks, the access hatch slid open, and the boarding ramp extended.

Tall rudimentary buildings stood in the distance, reflecting an architecture of more primitive civilizations long gone. Towering skyscrapers were carved out of natural rock spires. Below them numerous hovels were dug into the side of shallow bluffs. Even the vehicles were made of a light, porous rock.

Among these stone structures were the hulking frames of the _Quasgoul_.

Adina strolled down the boarding ramp laden in heavy, deep crimson robes. Immaculate black boots clunked on the durasteel plates as he walked. At the foot of the ramp were two Quasgoul waiting patiently.

"Greetings o' great traveler! It has been many cycles since last we met." The Quasgoul spoke in a cheerful, harmonious voice.

"Too long in deed, old friend." Replied Adina. "Much has happened. Many worlds have fallen into my grasp, all for the glory of my people. But I have questions."

The Quasgoul studied Adina for a moment. "Questions we have answered, more you bring. You will have to appease the _camal_ if more you seek."

Accepting the situation, Adina moved the conversation along. "So be it, it has been a long journey my friend. Let us find a place to rest first."

And so the group, Adina and several adjutants plus the two Quasgoul, headed toward the city to find shelter for the night.

During the ride, Adina reflected on the peculiarity of the Quasgoul. They were an odd nonhuman species. Two muscular arms attached to a hulking, slunk over frame supported by two trunk-like legs. Their bulging faces sat on bald, wrinkled heads with little or no neck. But oddest of all were the little miniature cities they hauled on their backs, homes to another symbiotic species know as the _Carloe_.

A bump jolted Adina out of his thoughts. Unhindered, the rock carriage cruised on. Adina peered out the small viewport, surveying the rushing landscape. On the horizon sat a blazing gold sun. The end of a day was nearing.

Looking over to his right, Adina watched the tiny Carloe buzz about the Quasgoul.

The Carloe were tiny little moth-like creatures of full sentience. Their macroscopic seed pods floated along on the planet's winds, attaching themselves to the Quasgouls' newborns. The Carloe formed buildings out of the Quasgoul's flesh. Over time they would erect scaled castles, temples, and towers on the backs of their host. In doing so they fed off the life energies of the Quasgoul. When the Quasgoul died, so did the Carloe that lived in the tiny cities on the Quasgoul's back.

In return for the burden of carrying these tiny creatures' homes, the Quasgoul received immense knowledge of past, present, and future. For the miniscule Carloe were very close to the midi-cholorians of the Force. The currents of the Force flowed freely through them, allowing them to pick out the makings of creation itself.

Quasgoul enjoyed this insight immensely.

"Master Adina, what came of your travels in the Liindzeck land?" Asked the Quasgoul.

"Ah Ja'na, it was an interesting affair. Much of the things your people saw came true." Adina replied casually.

"Even what I saw?" Inquired Ja'na.

"Yes, it was just as you saw. Arms by the thousands rained from the sky and brought victory to my people." Adina smiled as he remembered the Quasgoul's prophetic words.

Ja'na grinned in return. "I'm glad your people were victorious. Great fortune will come in our favor with our people united."

A frown crept across the Sith Lord's face. "We must be careful, Ja'na. My people believe in constant change. We are forever fighting each other to strengthen ourselves as a whole. Only with a strong leader can there be hope for my people."

With interest, Ja'na explored his friend's discomfort. "Your leader, the great Tulak, is he not powerful and strong like you say?"

"Oh he is quite strong. The greatest swordsman my people have ever seen. But there are others who would put an end to his rule. Ones who hold a grievance." Adina remarked.

Nodding, Ja'na replied, "this I understand. My people often quarrel in disagreement. Not long ago we warred ferociously to the death over trivial matters. Yet the Carloe came to our rescue and soothed us of our pain and ignorance. Now we live in peace, obsessing with the wisdom of the maker."

_The maker._ Thought Adina.

The Sith, even the Jedi, did not believe in a maker. Each order was based on the belief in the Force. But what created the Force? It was hard to argue with the sage wisdom of the Quasgoul and their prophetic Carloe. So many things they had seen and all true. Never had they been wrong about anything.

On into the city the carriage zoomed, hovering over the surface as it raced across the landscape.

The next day Adina woke in the cool comforts of a typical Quasgoul hovel. There was no ownership, at least not any more, among these people. Travelers found shelter wherever there was room. Belongings were sparse and kept in wagons and carts so as to be mobile.

Rising slowly from the hard, cloth mattress that lied on the earthen floor, Adina stretched his aching muscles.

_Another day._ He thought.

He looked over into the next room and saw Ja'na and his assistant sitting around a thick, stone slab table, drinking a strong scented tea. Walking over to the table, he took a seat and poured himself a cup of the steaming liquid.

"Good beginnings far traveler!" Greeted Ja'na. "So, friend Adina, shall we be off to see the _camal_?"

Adina looked around, peering through the open doorways and into the numerous rooms circling around them. All of his aides were still fast asleep.

"Yes, too much time has passed already." He replied.

Ja'na and his companion smiled, knowing that the Sith Lord was embarrassed with how he and his company and slept in so late.

Thus the trio headed outside to the rock speeder and onwards toward the center of the city.

Through narrow streets and wide open markets, they made their way towards the inner sa, the dwelling of the camal.

It was a modest building that looked like a rough hemisphere. Along its surface were numerous windows that gleamed in the yellow beams of the system's sun.

At the entrance, which was no more than a simple hole in the rock wall, were two Quasgoul sentries, each adorned in elaborate outfits and antiquidated, ornamental weapons.

Adina marched through, Ja'na in the lead, and the other Quasgoul bringing up the rear.

Inside the building was a spider web of low ceiling tunnels. Rooms branched off here and there, occasionally connecting to more passage ways. Simple chemical lanterns lit the interior in a dim glow. It was like a giant honeycomb.

Finally the trio made their way into the inner most chamber of the sa. The chamber was a wide opened hemisphere, about 10 meters in diameter. Around the edges of the room were decorative archways with dark, cave like entrances. In the middle of the room was a circular burn pit, a place for ritualistic bon fires. Above the pit was a chimney leading up through the building's roof.

Ja'na went to the pit and placed a handful of herbs into the circle. He then took one of the torches placed around the circle, lit it, and used the torch to burn the herbs.

A very powerful aroma filled the chamber as smoke rolled off the herbs.

Lord Adina's nostrils flared as the scent crept up into his face. He almost gagged as the potent smoke rolled into his lungs. But then something caught his eye. Motion. Beings were moving about the elaborate arches, cautiously drifting out of their caves. The _camal_ were coming out.

Eight elderly Quasgoul shifted their way towards the burn pit. On their backs were extremely magnificent palaces in miniature, each of them housing a small swarm of the Carloe.

The oldest of the council was the first to speak. "So the dark traveler has more questions? Answers you may find, but what do you bring in return?" Asked the elder in a rasping voice.

Adina remembered the elder's name, Pos'nalla, and bowed slightly in reverence. "I offer details on the last calling's prophecies."

All of the elders stirred in anticipation, eager to hear the telling.

The Carloe had turned the Quasgoul into a knowledge crazed species. All of their passions were devoted to spinnings of prophecy. Far into the past, future, and present the Carloe could see, but seldom did the Quasgoul ever get to _actual see_ the events that unfolded. They were forced to accept only what they knew and rely on the assumption that the Carloe were never wrong.

But here was a chance to get reaffirmation of the prophecies, a reaffirmation of faith.

Pos'nalla stepped forward and greeted Adina. "This is most agreeable. First we will seek your answers, then you will tell us _all_ that transpired on your journey, leaving nothing out." The old being smiled wryly as he gazed at the dark lord.

"So it shall be." Replied Adina.

The _camal_ circled the pit, inhaling the strong fumes from the burning herbs. Carefully they knelt to the floor, bowing their heads toward the center of the room. In the dim light one could barely make out the tiny Carloe that were swarming about their backs. A faint buzz could be heard in the silence. A rhythmic chanting followed.

A half hour passed as Adina posed his questions to the camal and the ancient beings convened with the Carloe.

Patiently Adina waited.

Finally the chanting ended, the ceremony complete. Pos'nalla was, again, the first to speak. "Many things have yet to transpire, and much has already passed, but the happening is what should concern you dark traveler."

Another elder, one of long red facial hair and a wizened beard spoke next. "Your Lord holds an empire by the throat. With him it will grow only to an early grave. But if he passes much does the future hold for your people. Wealth, strength, and power beyond measure."

Across the circle boomed another. "But the passing must be soon. It _will_ be soon. And there is nothing you can do. Your hand will not hold the blade."

"Another of you kind will lay the stroke." Continued the red beard. "And with one stroke, five swords will fall."

_Five swords. One stroke._ Adina struggled to put the thoughts together.

"There is more, dark traveler. The passing of a red lord will bring prosperity to your people. Your kingdom will be united in purpose. Your lord will grow strong, far more powerful than he is today. With the sword he will be without equal, even with the passing of eons, none shall ever reach his skill."

In a grim tone Ja'na spoke, "and still by the blade he shall fall."

Pos'nalla nodded in agreement with the younger Quasgoul.

Waiting for further comment, Adina stood silently, but none came.

Delicately, the Sith Lord inquired about his own destiny. "What of I?"

Pos'nalla turned to one of the stoutest elders of the camal. The tank like being shifted as he considered the images that he saw. "You must seek the past. In it lies the future."

"And what must I seek from the past?" Adina asked curiously.

The burly Quasgoul raised his massive head. His gaze peered into Adina's black eyes. "Ancient knowledge that the _Architects_ passed to the _Builders_. Tomes on the creation of life. In this you must play your part."

Pos'nalla concluded the ceremony, "No more can we speak. All your answers have been given." The elder inclined his head to Adina and waited.

As promised, Adina recounted the events of his campaign in the Lozon System. By the time he was finished, the setting sun had come and gone. Two cycles had passed, one day in standard time, but the beginning of something new for Adina.

The beginning of a quest.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: "Carrion for the worms"**

**Ziost**

Eternal twilight hovered over the frozen skies of the Sith capital. Red skinned Sith were going about their business, huddled in thick fur cloaks. Their minds were about their daily lives: going to work, feeding their families, and how best to spend their evenings when alone with their loved ones. Even though they were a piece of a grander scheme, an empire, their thoughts only wandered there in passing. To them it was part of something of which they played only an insignificant role. How could their lives really affect those of the _Sith Lords_?

Away from the public eye, gathered in one of the nine Great Fortresses, the Sith Lords were seated. A special meeting had been called for by the Dark Lord himself. At present, Tulak Hord remained calmly seated at his place of honor. His black and gold armor sat ominously at the head of the grand table before them. The other lords, adorned in various fine cloths and rare jewels, waited patiently for the evening's announcement.

Slowly, with animated showmanship, Lord Tulak rose to address those present. "I have called this meeting today in the interest of the Sith Empire. It has come to my attention that there is a threat among us, an impediment to our progress that I can no longer ignore."

Hord paused, letting the silence stab through the air like an assassin's blade. With an aura of dominance and power, he walked over to Lord Nechos.

"Lord Nechos, rise before your brethren."

Nechos did as he was commanded. His body trembled in fear and stumbled as he managed to get to his feet.

"It is no secret that you covet my power. For years you have set yourself against me. Yet I have let the game go on in the interest of preserving my focus. You have kept me sharp, Lord Nechos, and ever watchful." A coy smile crossed the Dark Lord's reddish face.

"But recent events have gone too far. There is an old saying that _it is unwise to toy with deadly game_." Tulak looked Nechos fully in the eyes. "You are too dangerous to play with anymore. I challenge you, Lord Nechos, to the death. Victor receives the title of _Dark Lord of the Sith_."

He looked over at the lords seated around the table. "This order I command _all of you_ to obey."

"You can't be serious…you are!" Nechos was aghast, his mouth hung slacken beneath his crimson face. "You're mad! You've taken this lightsaber obsession all too far. Now you just what to test your mettle against a Sith Lord!"

Tulak Hord stood like a devilish ghoul, a sinister smile plastered across his cheeks. His eyes dug deep into Nechos' flimsy shell of confidence. The predator had become shaken.

Lord Nechos was a politician by heart, a warrior when it suited his purposes. Logistics, organization, and manipulation were his strengths. Combat was…_distasteful_. Yet a Sith Lord did not shy away from killing. There are ways to get things done without ever getting your hands dirty. For one thing there was the Force.

"Fine. Have your way, an end to the games, an open duel for all to see. Maybe then they'll see just how mad you've become." Nechos swirled off his fur cloak.

"Not here, like animals. We should honor the traditions of our predecessors. In the old days lords fought for supremacy in _the pit_." The pit was an icy sunken square in the middle of the capital's public forums, a gladiatorial arena for disputes.

"To the pit then."

Nechos' voice was hollow, his strength on a bare thread.

The lords rose and followed, everyone going to their ships. It would be a short ride to the forums, no one wanted to miss out.

At first the passing crowd merely looked on with mild interest. It was not everyday you got to see a Sith Lord. Yet as they continued to watch, they saw more and more. All of them in fact.

"Do you see that, the entire council is there." Remarked a Sith laborer.

"I wonder what they're up to?" Asked another.

The laborer pointed his finger toward the pit. "I bet they're going to duke it out, just like the old days. My grandfather once told a tale of seeing the Dark Lords fight for the title."

"Quick, lets go get a good spot before they're all taken."

And with that, the crowd became a mob. Soon a quarter of the city was gathered in attendance, peering over heads, gawking from nearby windows, and perched on the roof tops. Everyone wanted to see the show.

There, at the bottom of the pit, were two Sith Lords, each adorned in hulking armor. Lord Nechos wore green jaded mail, a tall narrow helmet crowning the attire. In his quaking hands was a massive great sword imbued with Sith alchemy. The dark tendrils swirled around it.

Before him was Tulak Hord. His tall stature was emblazoned in black and gold armor. Ragged spikes jutted out in odd angles from his pauldrons and gauntlets. A deadly spike protruded from each armored boot. Yet no swords were in his hands. There was no sheath hanging from his belt.

Instead there were six ornate cylinders dangling in their elegance.

Each instrument of destruction called out to Hord. With great envy, he chose the one with the most kills. This one was lighter than the rest. Its handle was made of a light-density ore dug from the depths Koldar VII. Small groves were etched into its surface, crisscrossing as they reached toward the emitter. A lone blue button served as the igniter. The switch yearned for his touch.

"Tulak Hord, Dark Lord of the Sith, let it be known that I did not seek this fight but I will not hesitate to finish it." Nechos put on a good show for the people, he did not want to be seen a coward in front of his subjects.

Tulak nodded in approval. "And let it be known that there can be only one Dark Lord. Today one leaves the pit either as ruler of our people or food for the worms."

Hord ignited the fiery red blade, a wild glow in his eyes. Without haste, the two charged forward, joining in a clash of steel as their armor clanged against one another. Shoulder to shoulder they pushed to dislodge their opponent's footing. Both blades remained back and at the ready. Neither one gave ground.

Nechos sensed that Tulak was getting the upper hand, thus he whipped his blade forward, a clean swipe to the hip. The blade hit between the joints of the armor, its tortured blade searing into Hord's flesh.

Tulak's face showed no pain, in fact, he smiled.

"Pain shall be your undoing." Hord taunted, bringing his lightsaber up above his head. The weightless beam zipped through the air, all the way to the ground without resistance. He pulled the blade back to his side, extinguishing the blood colored beam.

Nechos stood dumbfounded, his shock frozen on his face as the color rapidly vanished from his rosy cheeks. A sickly pale hue embraced him like a blanket. Its cold warmth slipped him casually through the planes of existence. Numbness carried him away.

His body slumped to the earthen floor. The onlookers gasped in shock. It had ended so quickly, they didn't even see the lords use their dark powers.

Several of the Sith Lords turned away in disgust or dismay. Adina and Serq looked on calmly, merely waiting for their lord's orders.

Tulak approached them. "Come, we have work to do." The Dark Lord of the Sith left the battlefield.

No one dared to touch Nechos' body, instead it was left to rot. Carrion for the worms.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: "Taking Sides"**

Korriban was an old planet, ancient as the stars themselves. The old Sith speak of tales when Korriban was once a bright golden star that acted as a beacon for the lost. Long, long ago the system was rich in habitable planets. An Eden amidst the cold desolate plains of space. It was this jewel of the cosmos that drew the attention of the Architects.

**Pollo Dyak's Tomb, Valley of the Sith Lords:**

Adina stood before the obscure tomb in strange awe. Cool chills shivered up his emaciated body. Stilling himself, he approached the entrance.

The worn, weathered stone was covered in an old form of Sith markings. It was beyond Adina's understanding. Ignorantly, he tunneled forward. The dunes half filled the entry tunnel, causing him to duck as he made his way in. Dim shadows flickered along the walls. Adina paid them little mind.

Somewhere inside was the past, and with that, the key to the future.

About 50 meters into the tomb, Adina reached an opening. The air grew cooler as he passed through. Casting a torch, he looked around the room. Several tall misshapen statues adorned the room along with more obscure text. In the center was a raised platform cradling a small sarcophagus. Slowly, Adina approached the casket.

"For a thousand years you've slept in peace…but today I must disturb your slumber."

With that, he carefully slid the lid off halfway, leaving it cockeyed so it would rest on top. He leaned over to look inside. A small withered skeleton stared back.

In his skeletal hands was an ancient looking datapad.

Adina pried the piece of machinery loose from the dead lord's hands. Holding it to the light, he could see the makings of control knobs and a viewscreen. With a simple click it activated.

"I am Pollo Dyak, Dark Lord of the Sith, Ruler of the Ten Suns, and founder of the Dagon Templar. For you, bold adventurer, this is my story…"

The voice went on for what seemed like an hour. Adina listened in complete captivation. He heard the stories of the Celestials, Krudesh, Vus'swa, The Pawns of Creation, and the Krudeshi Rituals. His head spun in wonder at the wealth of information he had uncovered.

The very secrets of life itself had been revealed to him.

Half dazed, he stumbled out of the tomb onto the cold night sands of the planet. Darkness had set and the stars were out. Kath hounds howled in the distance. Somehow Adina managed to get to his ship and punch in the coordinates for Ziost.

**Ziost, Hord's Throne Room:**

Mazul Serq entered the vast chamber and stood between the rows of towering statues. An empty throne greeted him in the distance.

"He's not here. In fact nobody knows where he is today." Replied Erathipa.

Serq looked over to his right and saw a large portly man sitting comfortably on a bench.

"How long have you been here?"

Erathipa shifted his weight as he sat up straight. "Oh, only since yesterday. I guess urgent news comes in second to the important _affairs of the day_." He said sarcastically.

"What are you getting at Gilga?"

"Two words, _laser sword_." Erathipa spread his arms in a gesture of obviousness. "It's all he ever thinks about anymore. If he isn't sparring or killing something with them, then he's tinkering on 'em. Seems the empire has taken a back seat."

Serq digested the information and compared it with what he had observed. Gilga was right. It had become an obsession.

"I suppose your right. Still, as long as Adina and I have control of the fleets, then the expansion and defense of the empire remains secure-"

"Oh I wouldn't say that. Aren't you a little concerned about your own hide? Especially after what happened to Nechos…"

Serq snapped. "Nechos deserved what he got. He was a traitor and a parasite. His conniving was draining the very life of the empire. He had to be stopped."

Erathipa sat back, a little shocked by Serq's temper. "Don't' get me wrong, I'm no Nechos sympathizer. The man was a leech. Still…Tulak had put up with his antics for years. To him it was always a game, kept him on his toes. Gave him something to do." Gilga looked sadly to the floor, his voice sullen. "Now he kills his lords to quench his madness."

A concerned look crossed Serq's stern face. "Gilga, surely you don't fear that Hord will strike you down just to spill blood with his lightsaber-"

"I do. And so should you." He eyes looked up wearily. "Of all of us, you should fear it the most. You're the most _skilled_ swordsmen in the galaxy. The most _thrilling challenge_ for Hord to conquer in his pursuit of _mastery of the sword_."

Silence sank down upon the two. Serq quietly pondered the truth in Gilga's words. _Would Hord actually come after me?_ No matter how hard he tried to assert himself, he couldn't be sure.

**Outside the Capital, along the frozen plains:**

Hord held six metallic cylinders suspended in the air. Each gleamed in the eternal twilight of Ziost's sky. Using the Force, he articulated them independently, each one going through a different set of maneuvers. By now it had become second nature. If he really wanted to, he could have built a hundred, even a thousand, and moved them all with the extended reach of the dark side. A veritable army of himself.

"Lord Tulak, do you really think its safe for us to meet out here?" Asked Lady Pitaka.

Hord glanced up. Methodically he eyed the slender woman from foot to head. His eyes locking on to hers. "My people do as I command."

"Ah, but even the wives of Sith Lords get jealous. Do you really have that much control over your _wife_?" She teased.

Hord was silent for a moment. "No. But she need not know, nor will she find out."

He snapped to his feet and forcefully grabbed Lady Pitaka. Their mouths locked together in a fierce embrace. Their bodies intertwining like serpents.

Twenty minutes later, the two Sith Lords sat in the warmth of eachother's naked bodies, bundled tightly in layers of heavy fur blankets. Each stared above at the starry sky.

"Tulak, why do you obsess yourself with those laser swords?"

Hord looked over at Losi, her green eyes glowing in radiance. "It…is a matter of the heart."

"Of the heart?"

"An inner feeling, a desire. It urges me and draws me in. Much like you." A sly smile crossed his red lips.

Very few people got to see that smile. Losi Pitaka cherished it.

"Well I guess that I can understand. It makes sense." She paused. "But the other lords, they now fear you. They fear that you will kill them simply to test yourself and your skills with the sword."

Hord was silent. He chewed on the thought. "A part of me killed Nechos to see what it would be like. To slay a Sith Lord with a lightsaber. Yet the other part of me allowed it only because it was long overdo."

And yet it was a lie. Deep down there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to fight a Sith Lord in deadly combat and defeat them with his mastery of the sword. But not some pathetic weakling like Nechos. No. It had to be someone truly worthy of the challenge.

"Tulak, what are you thinking?" Losi leaned over and tugged on his chin.

Calmly he stared back. "Nothing. Only of your beauty."

And with that they were at it again.

**Sith Capital, Royal Hangar:**

Adina's ship landed swiftly. The tall thin lord scampered out of his ship, eager to unveil the good news.

He was stopped by Lord Daku.

"Lord Adina, I must talk with you."

Adina waited for Daku to release his grip on his forearm. "What is it?"

Daku put a finger to his lips, gesturing to be silent. He waved Adina to follow him.

They walked a short distance and entered a private room in a nearby hallway. There Daku confided in Adina.

"Tulak Hord has gone mad. His obsession with lightsabers has driven him out of his mind. You saw what he did with Nechos. It has only wetted his appetite. In fact, it probably has made it worse." Nervously Daku pulled something out of his pocket and swallowed it. "Soon one of **us** will be next. He'll go after someone more challenging. Someone skilled with a sword."

Adina did not look pleased. "Why would you think it would be one of us, why not Serq? He's the most gifted of all us in combat."

"No. Not Serq. Tulak might be mad but he wouldn't kill his best friend. They are too close. You and I on the other hand," a grave look sunk upon him, "we are far more likely."

Fear pervaded Daku's face. Adina was not used to seeing the man so shaken. Of all the Sith lords other than himself and Serq, Adina rated Daku as one of the best.

"Okay, lets say he is coming after one of us. What do you want to do about it?"

Daku looked shocked. "I am no traitor! I will not conspire against the Dark Lord behind his back-"

"Come now, Daku, I bet Nechos tried to get your support." Adina chided. "And we are not engaging in idle chit chat here. So, what do you propose we do?"

Daku tried to gauge Adina's mindset. Was he being lured into a trap or did he genuinely have Adina's ear? He decided to take the leap.

"We gather the Sith Council for a special meeting. There we unite ourselves in a pledge to defend each other should Hord openly challenge another lord in personal combat. If we can come to that agreement, we then confront Hord and inform him of the situation. He will then be forced to give up any thoughts of lightsaber duels with Sith Lords."

Initially Adina was skeptical of Daku's fears. Yet his reasoning was sound. A coalition would have the effect of blocking Hord from any more rash actions. And as long as he and Serq were a part of this _coalition_, then there would be no coups to overthrow Hord.

"Alright. I'll back you in this endeavor. Who do you want to go to first?"

"Nasas, then Daen. With their support, the others will follow." A slight hesitation sweeped over Daku. "What about Serq? Can you get him to join us?"

Adina did not answer right away. Instead he mulled over the possibilities. _Maybe. Maybe not._ "I can get him to back us. Let me worry about him. You just get the others first."

In reality, Adina wasn't so sure. Then again, if anyone could do it, it was him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: Casting of Lots**

**Korriban, Valley of the Dark Lords:**

Lord Daku knelt before the tomb of his ancestors. It was not the largest of the Sith memorials in the valley, but neither was it the smallest. Looking up, he gazed upon the faded red stone of the blocky structure. A simple portal provided entrance into the inner mausoleum. Two massive winged hounds flanked the entrance. Directly above the doorway was a sculpted bust of Daku's ancient forefather, Rosast Daku, Dark Lord of the Sith.

"I come to you for guidance, for strength, and for wisdom." His soft words rang clearly in the air and hung in the silence.

A breezed blew by, scattering a few gusts of fine sand. A kath hound screamed in the distance. Yet the Dark Lord did not reply. Most men, even Sith Lords, failed to understand the workings of the dark side and the afterlife. Many adventurers traveled to Korriban, the Sith grave planet, to seek answers from the dead and few were ever successful. But Daku was a true believer, and he was patient. He waited until the sun rose high in the sky, its sweltering heat engulfing him in sweat. His muscles ached from holding his submissive stance, his throat was parched, and his stomach roiled in place.

And then his answer came.

"Lord Daku, do you really think the dead can talk?" Tulak Hord's tone was thick with sarcasm. "And why would they bestow their wisdom to a traitor like yourself?"

Daku rose slowly, turning to meet his opponent. "This time has been long in coming Tulak."

"Yes, yes it has." A thoughtful look crossed Hord's face. "You never did forgive me for killing your friend, did you?"

Daku tensed. "No. Never."

His friend was the last contender for the title of Dark Lord of the Sith, long before Nechos' fall. When the last Lord died of old age, Hord quickly stepped up to take his place. Yet he was not without a challenger. Of all the Sith Lords in the council, only one dared to compete with Hord. He was the only other individual worthy of the title. Alas he fell to Hord's blade.

The last image Daku could remember was the glassy eyes of his friend staring at him from across the room. His friend was lying dead upon the floor while Hord was declaring himself the new Dark Lord of the Sith. It was a hated memory that would never still.

Daku focused on that thought as he drew his sword. Hord watched in glee.

The two dark beasts circled each other on the old stones before the tomb. It was a fitting place for battle, a place where all the old Lords could sit and watch.

Tulak plucked two cylinders from his belt and ignited the thrumming blades. One of gold, one of silver, both lethal and weightless. He swept them forward like coiled vipers leaping for the attack. Daku parried and withdrew.

"You fight like a coward Hord, no better than a common peasant. The power of the dark side lies in the Force, not petty tools." To emphasize his point Daku struck out with the Force.

A seismic blast slammed into Hord as he tried to block the blow. For the most part, he was able to block it, enough to remain on his feet. Yet the blow was not without damage. He could feel the bruises it had left on his chest and arms, the tingling numbness that threaten to paralyze his body.

Then, to his surprise, one of his lightsabers went out.

"Look at that." Chuckled Daku, "One of your lightsaber crystals broke."

Hord yelled as he charged forward, trying to blind himself to his pain with wild rage. Daku struggled to block the ferocious attacks. Each fell like ten sledge hammers jarring his arms as they struggled to hold on to his sword. The attacks didn't stop, they only intensified.

Daku was slipping.

Then fate intervened again. This time Hord's other lightsaber went out.

"First a crystal, now a dead battery." A daring smile slid across Daku's face. "I think the dead have spoken, Hord. They've chosen the one with more respect."

Dejected with the failings of his lightsabers, Hord threw them away in disgust. He drew two more from the four cylinders that still hanged from his belt. Both ignited with crisp hisses of electrical discharge.

Again the two warriors came to blows.

With strained patience, Daku sought to entwine Hord in his own blades. If he could get Hord to strike rapidly, without thought, he could tangle the Dark Lord up enough to land his own blow. And thus his sword clashed against one lightsaber, then another. Each time the pace quickened as Hord grasped for an opening. Wild swings fell low and high as thee blades twirled through the air. Tulak was beginning to loose his focus. Daku could see the strikes turning into sloppy desperation. Now was the time.

Turning half around, Daku swirled back with a full, two-handed blow leveled for Hord's head. The Dark Lord intercepted it, then unleashed a wild flurry of attacks. Closer and closer the blows followed each other until they were nearly linked in continuous motion. With a wide, circling parry, Daku wrapped the two blades together, controlling their motion. As he pushed them down and around, he pulled off his sword and lunged for the attack. Hord was momentarily caught off guard.

A cold thunderbolt of pain ruptured through his body. Every nerve and muscle seized in complete shock. His eyes gasped in pain as his mind struggled to perceive the unfolding events. One last image rolled into view. A shimmering red blade stuck through his abdomen, sizzling with vapor of his own black blood.

Daku fell to his knees upon the grounds of his ancestor's tomb. It was a fitting place for his death.

For Hord it was a moment of ecstasy. Another victim of his blade. He savored the thrill while it lasted.

**Serq's fleet on the edge of Sith Space:**

Adina carefully approached the Sith Lord. Serq was dressed in full battle armor and manning his post aboard his flag ship. There were no hostiles to conquer in this sector, only natives to subdue, nevertheless Serq fulfilled his duty with equal passion. Adina gathered his posture as he addressed Serq.

"Mazul, I've come with a proposition, one best discussed in private."

Serq looked around at his crew, nodded his head, and walked over to a private command room. Once inside the two lords talked in private.

"I was approached by Lord Daku and he brought up a very interesting point. Tulak Hord has become increasingly incensed with his lightsabers, to the point that they may be affecting his judgment. He proposed that we, the Sith Council, unite together to oppose any future _challenges_ that Hord might issue."

Serq could see where this was going. "You think Hord will attack another Sith Lord just to satisfy his taste for combat. And you want me to stand by you and the others, to pose a united front against such a threat."

"Precisely."

"It is too late." Serq cast a solemn glance to the floor.

Adina waited in silence, not comprehending Mazul's meaning. "What is it?"

"Daku…he's dead. I just received a message from the capital informing me of the lord's passing. It said he died on Korriban when he tried to challenge Hord for the title of Dark Lord."

Adina couldn't believe it. Daku had been right. Hord had gone too far.

"If it is of any consequence, Lord Adina, I will still stand by you and the other lords. Tulak has lost his…_focus_." He carefully chose his words.

"If Daku is dead…should we…what…" Adina was at a loss for words. His mind struggled to grasp the next logical step. Too much had happened, all too fast.

Luckily Mazul stood as a guiding force. "If we let Hord go as he is, then nothing will change. Soon another will fall victim to his obsession. Thus we must act." He paused to convey the seriousness of his conclusion. "We must confront him in combat…and kill him. There is no other way."

Adina bounced the ideas around in his head. It was a simple plan. Straightforward. "_Together_ we strike?"

Serq nodded his head.

The plan had been set. The end of the greatest swordsmen the Sith had ever seen was now cast in motion. The question was whether or not it would play out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Prologue**

Tulak Hord was the greatest swordsmen the Sith had ever known. Had he ever ventured into the Republic, he would have quickly made his reputation known to the Jedi. However he was a man gifted with a talent that had no release. In the small empire that the Sith had carved out for themselves, there were no enemies left to challenge him. None other than his own people. And of them, none more challenging than the lords of the Sith Council. Thus he was doomed to destroy himself or the order he served.

**Chapter 11: The Fall of the Master**

**Il Magno- One of the moons of Ziost:**

Outside a cold, savage wind howled relentlessly against the solid walls of Hord's fortress. It was one of several that he occupied from time to time. This one once housed the famed Sith Lord Ajunta Pall. It was said to be his least favorite. Oddly, Hord found it appealing.

In complete solitude, he found his center for meditation. And so the cold swirls of the dark side gathered around his body. In the silence, he could hear it whisper.

* * *

Outside the broad, ominous fortress stood two beings. One was a lanky, frail looking being of red complexion. A long red tentacled mustache hung from his face. The hard lines on his cheeks were contrasted by the intensity in his eyes.

Next to him was a solid, well muscled warrior. He looked as if he could've been a gladiator and the scars that showed here and there seemed to only reinforce that belief. Yet he was a Sith Lord, like his companion. His skin was a shade darker, his tentacled mustache cropped short at the corners of his mouth. There was no intensity in his eyes, only a determination in his gaze. He was a man on a mission.

The armor clad lords walked up to the looming doors of the fortress. The building was carved from the rock of the moon's surface and it seemed to simply burst out of the icy drifts that surrounded it. Adina, adorned in simple gray armor and a dull green cloak, approached the door.

Stirring from behind the thick metal barrier, a single Massassi warrior creaked the heavy obstacle out of the way in order to greet the guests.

"Milords, it is an honor." The red-skinned Massassi warrior fell to one knee. "Shall I notify Lord Tulak of your arrival?"

"No." Replied Serq. "The Force will let him know." He nodded to Adina and they continued inside.

* * *

The voices were growing louder. More persistent. Still, Hord tried to resist.

_"Kill. Kill. Draw the blade. Listen to its caaallll."_ The voices screeched as they pleaded, begging without shame.

Hord could feel their desire. It was like a starvation, a primitive urge that boiled from within without control. With cold sweat dripping down his face, he awoke to a startle.

The voices were his own.

Looking down, he could see the lightsaber hilt in his hands. It was clutched so tightly that the feeling was numb in his fingers. Slowly he released his grip, letting the blood flow back into his palms.

Still, he could not shake that feeling. He had finally realized that he was loosing control. The call of the sword was becoming an addiction, one he could not control. One he did not want to control.

"It is time, Tulak."

Hord hesitated. _What did the voices mean it is time?_ Then it dawned on him, this voice was real.

He turned his torso, the rest of him still sitting upon the floor with his legs crossed. At the edge of the room were two shadowy figures. Instantly he felt them in the Force. _Adina and Serq._

"I see your meditation has distracted you. Are arrival has come as a surprise."

Hord rose to his feet without making any sudden movements. Part of him wanted to greet Serq with a smile, to share stories of the old times and reminisce. Yet another part hungered for something completely different. The urge was so foreign that he wasn't completely sure it was his.

"Serq. Adina." He made eye contact with each while trying to control the feelings swelling from within.

Adina stepped forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Tulak, it has gone too far. This hobby of yours has become an obsession. You must realize this?" The words came out as a plea, a last ditch effort to save the Dark Lord's life.

Adina's face showed concern. He had a deep attachment to his Lord. All his wants had always been answered by Tulak. He was given a fleet to control, complete freedom of action, and a dozen species to conquer. It was all he had ever wanted in life, that of a warrior.

Now he had to confront his mentor because of a single failing. Deep down he wanted to help his master, to find a solution that did not end in death.

All of these things were bluntly apparent to Hord. It caused him to examine himself, to seek some break that he could visualize, some damage that he could repair within himself.

While Adina tried to reason and Hord hesitated in introspection, Serq took action. He had his sword fully unsheathed before Hord even took notice. By the time the Dark Lord reacted, Serq's blow was already raised. As the heavy blade came crashing down, Adina stood in shock.

Reacting out of instinct, Hord rolled back. The sword slammed down onto the rock tiled floor sending shards flying about. Hord looked into his best friend's eyes and saw only a cold, emotionless stare. He knew now what he meant. _His time had come._

Lunging forward, Serq drove his sword like a lance. Hord ignited one of his lightsabers and managed to deflect the attack. As his lightsaber blade chopped down on the sword, he maneuvered closer to Serq, preparing a counter. Yet Serq acted first putting a hard elbow into Hord's chin. The Dark Lord took a step back but Serq pressed on, this time with a double, crisscrossing slash toward the chest.

Now Adina motioned forward. He gathered his resolve and launched his attack to Hord's left hip. With a methodical grace, Tulak swept the blow aside, blocked another attack from Serq, and freed himself some breathing space.

In his mind he struggled to collect himself. He was fighting on instinct, without thought. After thousands of duels the motions had become second nature. But in the back of his mind he was grappling with the situation. His most trusted subordinates were attacking him. His _friends_ were trying to kill him. And part of him wanted to die rather than see them fall before him, their lifeless eyes staring up at him from cold puddles of blood.

Then a burning pain erupted along the back of his right calf as a hard blade sliced through the skin. In that moment the dark side burst forth in an uncontrollable wave. It crushed the tiny doors that were struggling to hold it back. All self control was lost.

The voices screamed in jubilation.

Serq pulled his hefty sword up, slinging blood as he did so across Adina's face. Adina paid no mind, he was busy calculating his next attack. The lord's thin arms snapped out as he swung at the back of Tulak's neck. To his surprise it swept through thin air.

With lightning speed and boundless agility, Hord dropped to the ground, spun on his back, then leaped to his feet sending his lightsaber in a large windmill strike aimed at Adina. The blow knocked him to the ground. Hord then spun in mid stance, abruptly changing his grip, and sent his humming blade behind him, piercing the soft flesh of Serq's thigh. The Sith Lord howled in pain but charged onward. Hord caught the blow and let it push him back. As he reeled from the blow, he sent his right leg in a sweeping kick that took out both of Serq's. He fell to the ground.

Hord almost sent his searing blade into Serq's unprotected neck but was forced to block Adina's next attack. The blades clashed. Adina's sword, imbued with the wonders of Sith alchemy, simply accepted the blow and grinded against it. Adina clenched his teeth as he tried to overpower the Dark Lord but Tulak's strength was too much. Instead he felt his feet slipping as he fell back from the pure force of Hord's will.

Serq snapped to his feet with a yell, using all his power to ignore the pain of the severed tendons and vessels in his leg. Clasping his strength together, he unleashed a series of attacks. Hord blocked the first few, then began parrying them. This brought him into position to launch his own attacks. Serq was no longer in a position to hold his own. Steadily he was losing ground.

As Hord's blows intensified, as the strikes linked themselves in a seamless flow of motion, Serq gave up. He tossed his sword to the ground and bellowed, "If my sword will not finish you then let it be my power in the Force!"

His fingers froze in crooked patterns, a vile look burned into his face, as Serq spewed bolts of raw power from the palms of his hands. The arcs of energy convulsed around Hord, sending him to his knees as he absorbed the excruciating tendrils of pain. Each bolt felt as if it were ripping through his flesh and tearing out his veins.

Adina stood in awe as the pure power of the dark side crashed into Hord. For a moment he thought this was it, that the end was coming. Then he noticed Serq's power waning. Hord was regaining his strength, struggling to his feet. Adina leapt forward to strike Hord before it was too late. Some of Serq's lightning caught him in the back. As he swung his sword he saw a smile cross Hord's face. Then a blast of dark energy pelted him in the chest.

The blast sent Adina sprawling across the floor, his sword clattered out of his grip as it skidded away. He struggled to his feet and saw Hord plunge his lightsaber into Serq's chest. A mad glow permeated the Dark Lord's face as he smiled in grim delight above his conquered foe.

_Hopelessness, despair, defeat._

Adina shook away the feelings, his mind kicking into action. His sword was too far away and wasn't getting him anywhere. The Force would have to be his ally.

Diving down into his soul, he found his center. He was one with himself. He could feel the Force at his command. Drawing it like a whip, he unfurled it at Hord with a wild, sweeping gesture. The blow caught Tulak off guard, blood seeped from his mouth.

Hord's eyes stared blandly at Adina. There was no life behind them, only a simple driving desire to kill. Adina realized that Hord wasn't really there. In fact he wasn't fighting Hord at all. Instead, the thing before him was a living embodiment of the dark side. Its will had completely overtaken Hord and was now driving him to do its bidding.

There was no way to destroy the dark side with the dark side. And Adina knew nothing of the light. Yet there was the Krudesh Scrolls. He hadn't gotten a chance to fully study them, but the principle was simple enough. Take the energies of the Force, channel them through your body, adding your own life force with it, then release.

As he was going through the steps, his body was unconsciously following along. He could feel power rushing into his body. The dark swirls flowing off Hord, the inanimate glow that hovered above Serq's dying body, and the tainted purity of his own. Growing inside of him like a rippling surge of tension, he released himself, channeling the energy out and forward.

As he opened his eyes, he saw Hord's thrumming blade sweeping toward his face, only inches away. Yet the blade swept by in front of him as Hord's body flew backwards. The ball of energy slammed into his abdomen, crumpling him in two, and slinging him back like a stone. Hord slid across the floor, slamming into the wall. His crumpled form was hunched over his lightsaber. In a death grip, he still held it in an iron fist. Even as the blade protruded from his back.

It was done.

Walking forward, Adina tentatively approached the lightsaber. Hord's body was still. Adina bent down and pushed Hord upright, leaning him back against the wall. The lightsaber burned an even deeper gouge but Hord showed no reaction. Prying the lightsaber from the knotted up fingers of Hord, Adina held the lightsaber up to eyes. The red glowing blade hummed in the silence. Listening closely, Adina thought he could almost hear it whispering.

He snapped the blade off and chucked it across the room. Inside, the tiny, fragile crystal shattered. Adina looked down at Hord. Five other cylinders were attached to his belt. Methodically he picked up each one and broke it. He used one lightsaber to destroy the others, then smashed the crystal in the last one. Satisfied that his task was accomplished, he walked over to Serq's body.

His fingers still felt warmth on the Sith Lord's neck, but there was no pulse of life. The life force he had felt earlier was now gone. He rose back to his feet. "The Dark Lord of the Sith, master of the sword, is…dead." He looked down at Serq. "And his best friend goes with him. May the dark side release its hold on both of them."

He turned his back on the grisly scene and headed for the door. The Sith Council would need a new leader. The title of Dark Lord would be his. And now he had a new found power to strengthen his resolve. Something not necessarily stronger than the dark side, but equally useful and perhaps…safer.

**Epilogue**

On Korriban, in the Valley of the Dark Lords, both Mazul Serq and Tulak Hord were laid to rest. Serq was placed in the tomb of his forefathers, a modest structure that was respected for those it contained. Yet Hord was given his own tomb, a large structure that dominated the landscape. A large relief of the Dark Lord stood above the entrance, guarding it against those who would dare breach its seal. Adina, now Dark Lord of the Sith, had Hord's subjects place the remains of the lightsabers on Tulak's sarcophagus. With a token sacrifice of a hundred servants, the tomb was sealed.

Inside the tomb Hord's body laid peacefully in the confines of a thick, stone coffin. His black ceremonial armor covered his body. Upon his face was a black, claustrophobic mask that reflected his fear inspiring image to the unguarded foe. And though the shattered remains of his lightsabers, primitive as they were, now lie broken beyond repair, if you listen closely, you can still hear them whisper the sweet cooings of the dark side.


End file.
